Gather Up Your Tears
by Enthusiastic Fish
Summary: This is a story about dealing with the suicide of a family member. There is a death of a minor character. How does one get beyond the pain and grief and all the other complicated emotions that arise as a result of suicide? It's Tim-centered as usual, but the rest of the team play important roles as well. Prologue and 14 chapters. I'll post one chapter per day.
1. Prologue

**A/N:** Warning: This is a story about the pain that comes from suicide. I know this can be a difficult subject for some people; so I don't want to take anyone by surprise. It was inspired by listening to "If I Die Young" by The Band Perry (and that's where the title comes from), but it doesn't really have much to do with the song. It came on the radio one day and the idea popped into my head. Yes, I'm that twisted. :) Just be aware of the subject matter because I don't treat it lightly.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own NCIS, the NCIS character or the lyrics written by The Band Perry. I'm not making money off this story.

* * *

**Gather Up Your Tears  
**by Enthusiastic Fish

_Gather up your tears, keep 'em in your pocket  
__Save 'em for a time when you're really gonna need 'em  
__The sharp knife of a short life  
__I've had just enough time  
__So put on your best, boys  
__And I'll wear my pearls._

~ "If I Die Young" by The Band Perry

**Prologue**

Sarah sighed. "I don't know, Tim. I just thought that...that I'd be better at all this."

Tim smiled.

"Hey, grad school is supposed to be hard."

"Everything I turn in comes back bleeding red. You never had all this trouble with your program."

"Sarah, what I did in grad school is totally different. I had to learn processes and research. Literature, writing...that's a lot of creativity. You always told me that I'm not a very good writer. It's a good thing I didn't try to do what you're doing."

"But you're the one with a published bestseller. I can't even get a good grade on a stupid paper."

She slumped back and stared at the ceiling.

"What am I doing wrong, Tim?"

"Hey!" Tim slid around the table and put his arm around her shoulders, forcing her to sit up. "Hey, that's no way to think. You're not doing anything wrong. Grad school is like I imagine boot camp. They tear you down so that they can build you up even higher. They're the ones who admitted you in the first place, Sarah. They obviously liked what they saw in your application. Don't let finals bring you down."

Sarah shook her head. "Dad talks about you all the time in his classes, but I'll bet he never mentions me...unless as a bad example."

"Now, come on, Sarah. Mom and Dad will always be happy as long as you're happy. If you're not liking this anymore...maybe you should think about going a different direction."

"Like what?" Sarah asked, glumly. "Typewriter maintenance?"

Tim laughed a little. "Sarah, you're really smart. You're a much better writer than I am. Just give it a chance. There's only a couple of weeks left in the semester. So when you're done, I think you should take the summer off."

"I can't do that."

"Yeah, you can. You can _always_ take time off if it's wearing you down...and you _should_. This isn't like you, Sarah. You've always been a lot more confident than I am. What's happened?"

"Being forced to face my own mediocrity."

"You're not mediocre. You're my sister and you're good at what you're doing. You just need to get into a groove."

"I don't think I'm going to, Tim." Sarah shook her head. "Ever since Sam was killed...it just feels like my life has been off track, and I can't seem to get it back on."

"Sarah, that was years ago."

"I know," Sarah said. "I know. Timmy, what do I do?"

Tim felt a little worried now. He hugged her tightly.

"You get through these next two weeks and then you go home and spend some time with family."

"Don't you count?" Sarah asked with a bit of a smile.

"Of course, I do. Maybe I can get some time off and we can have a real McGee reunion."

Sarah's smile slipped. "You're always so busy, Tim. How likely is that to happen? We're in the same city and I still only see you once in a while."

"You want to try staying with me for the next couple of weeks?" Tim asked. "I'll be in and out a lot, but we could at least hang out when I wasn't working."

"When? At midnight? I'm so swamped with papers right now that I barely see anything besides the old books I have to read."

Tim had to admit that there was a lot of truth to that. He'd been getting home after nine almost every night for the last month. This was the first Sunday he hadn't been called in to work for a while. The problem wasn't the cases so much as it was Cybercrimes being suddenly shorthanded. They hadn't had time to hire anyone yet. Tim was the most qualified to step in and that meant extremely long days, and some longer nights. In truth, he was feeling worn out himself and would love the break.

"Well, you know that you can always call. I can't always answer, but I'll return the call as soon as I can."

Sarah smiled, but she seemed sad, still. Tim made a mental note to call home and tell his parents about Sarah's newfound depression.

"Really, Sarah. You're my sister, and I love you. It's my job to make sure you're happy and safe. Mom told me so when you first moved here."

"Oh, Tim. I'm old enough to take care of myself. I'm just tired."

"Then, you need to take a break. I understand if you don't feel like you can right now, but it's only two more weeks and then you're free. Don't fall into the trap of thinking you're not allowed to take a break."

"That goes for you, too, Agent McGee."

Tim smiled. "This is only temporary. Once they get their new hire, I'll be back to my regular...irregular schedule."

"You look tired, too. I shouldn't have dumped all this on you."

"Yes, you should have. I'm your big brother, and what else am I good for if not looking out for my baby sister?"

"You're way too nice to me, Tim. I'm always putting you down."

"No, you're not," Tim said. "All siblings bicker. That's normal."

"You would have given up your job for me and all I could do was denigrate your writing. Your best-selling book."

Tim shook Sarah a little bit. "Now, stop it. Sarah, I love you and that will never change. Ever. There is nothing you could do that would make me stop loving you. We take care of each other, and if you're having a hard time, I want you to call me. If there's any way I can, I'll come and talk to you."

"I know you would," Sarah said with a smile. "You're a great brother, Tim. The best one I have."

"I'm the _only_ one you have," Tim said with a chuckle.

"I know, but it doesn't matter. You're still the best one."

"And you're the best sister."

Then, Tim's phone started ringing. He groaned, knowing it was going to be another call into work. Sarah pulled back gave him an understanding smile.

"Sorry, Sarah. Let me answer this, as if I didn't know what it was going to be." Tim pulled out his phone. "McGee."

"_Boss, we're having a meltdown here. I think every single computer in this room is falling apart."_

"All right. I'll be right over." Tim hung up and looked at Sarah. "Got to go and put out another fire. Sorry, Sarah. You want me to call you when I'm done tonight?"

"No. It won't be until late. I can tell by your face. You need your sleep. I'll just...see you when I see you."

"Things will get better," Tim said and stood up from the table.

Sarah suddenly hugged him tightly around the waist.

"I love you, Tim."

"I love you, too, Sarah. Always." He kissed the top of her head. Even though Sarah was now in her mid-twenties, he couldn't help but think of her as his baby sister. Her height (or lack thereof) probably contributed to it somewhat. "You want a ride back?"

"No, I'll make it. You just get to work saving the world."

"Just the computers, Sarah. Nothing more."

"Yeah." Sarah smiled and headed off to the Metro. Tim watched her go, still a little worried but then he remembered his task and sighed. He really hoped this was done soon. He couldn't take this schedule.

He was stuck at NCIS until eleven that night. He put off calling his parents until the next day because he knew that they'd be asleep right now...like he wanted to be.

_If I die young, bury me in satin  
__Lay me down on a bed of roses  
__Sink me in the river at dawn  
__Send me away with the words of a love song.  
__The sharp knife of a short life.  
__I've had just enough time._


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Tim was already hard at work by seven the next morning. He really couldn't keep up this schedule for much longer. It was going to get the best of him sooner or later.

"Man, McGee, don't you ever _leave_ here anymore?" Tony asked.

"I try."

"But every time you do, they suck you back in?"

Tim furrowed his brow. "What?"

"_The Godfather_. ...part three."

Tim shook his head tiredly. "Oh. I was here for about 10 hours yesterday. I put in four extra hours on Saturday. If they don't hire someone soon, I'm going to go nuts."

"That's what you get for being so good."

"Yeah." What Tony said reminded him of Sarah and he felt a vague disquiet.

It must have shown on his face.

"What's wrong, McGee?"

Tim shook his head. "It's Sarah. We were having brunch together yesterday and talking. She's having a real hard time with grad school. I was actually a little worried. Maybe I'll call her before..."

The elevator doors dinged open.

"We've got a problem," Gibbs said with no preamble.

"What is it?" Tim asked.

The elevator doors dinged open again, revealing Ziva this time.

"Thomas Sakota."

"What about him?" Tim asked. "He quit. That's why I'm still working down in Cybercrimes."

"He didn't just quit. He's dead."

"Tommy's dead?" Tim asked. "How?"

"Murder by the look of it. McGee, I want you in his files. Find out if he was doing anything shady and find out if anyone has got into his stuff."

Tim nodded, his eyes wide. He hadn't known Tommy very well, but he knew everyone in Cybercrimes a little bit. The idea that Tommy Sakota was not only dead but could be shady was a shock. Tim hoped that the last part was wrong. He couldn't change him being dead, but a traitor of any kind? Tim hated that idea. No matter how much he'd resented what had seemed to be Tommy's inconsiderate bailing out on NCIS, he didn't want the explanation to be that a man he'd worked with had been secretly getting ready to sell them out.

Quickly, he got into the records of what Tommy had been doing for the last few years...hoping to find nothing out of the ordinary. Calling Sarah would have to wait.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim spent the next twelve hours searching through Cybercrimes' files, looking for discrepancies, searching keystrokes, trying to find anything that might indicate that someone had broken into the servers.

Tony, Ziva and Gibbs had been in and out all day, investigating, trying to figure out what had happened to Tommy. At about 8:30 p.m., they returned for the last time. Tim felt like he hadn't moved at all during that day.

"McGee, you like death heated up," Ziva said.

"Warmed over," Tony corrected. "...but she's right. What have you been doing?"

"Staring at the computer screen," Tim mumbled.

"Did you find anything?"

"No...which is a relief," Tim said.

"Well?" Gibbs said.

Tim took a breath and summoned enough energy to lay out what he had _not_ found. He brought up the records he'd been combing through and showed what was going on.

"Tommy's keystrokes over the last three years show _nothing_ suspicious. He was doing his work as usual. I haven't seen anything to indicate that he might have been getting ready to send it out to someone who shouldn't have it."

"It?"

"Information."

Gibbs nodded. "Good. We can't see anything to indicate that it was a sale gone bad. I've got Abby going through his personal computer, but she's not seeing anything wrong either."

Tim nodded and sighed.

"So...who killed him?"

"Don't know that yet, but it's looking less related to NCIS...at least in terms of security. If someone did kill him because of his work here, they didn't get anything out of it that we can see so far. Ducky hasn't seen any signs of torture. Blood had no drugs in the system."

"Neighbors?" Tim asked, momentarily alert.

"Didn't see or hear anything," Tony said.

"We thought maybe suicide," Ziva said, "but it does not appear to be the case either."

"Robbery?"

"Maybe. We're trying to contact his family and friends."

"He didn't have many friends that I could tell," Tim said. "...but he..."

His phone started to ring. He looked at Gibbs with surprise, but he thought it might be Sarah.

"Can I–?"

Gibbs nodded, and Tim answered quickly.

"McGee."

"_Is this Timothy McGee?"_

Tim was surprised at the deep voice on the phone.

"Yes. Who is this?"

"_This is Detective Lloyd with Metro PD."_

"Metro?" Tim asked, feeling more confused than anything. "What can I do for you Det. Lloyd?"

"_You're listed as the emergency contact for a Sarah McGee? Is that correct?"_

Tim felt like a large lead balloon had dropped into the pit of his stomach.

"Yes, that's correct. She's my sister. Did something happen to her?"

"_Yes, I'm afraid so."_

"Is she hurt?" Tim asked.

"Sarah?" Tony asked.

Tim ignored him...or rather, didn't really even hear him. He was focused on the voice on the other end of the phone line.

"_I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, Mr. McGee, but your sister is dead."_

The lead balloon burst in his stomach, and Tim took a shocked breath. There may as well have been absolutely nothing else in the universe besides himself and the voice on the phone.

"What? What happened?"

"_We're not sure as yet, but...it looks like suicide."_

Tim exhaled the shocked breath he'd taken.

"No...that's...that's not..."

"_I'm really sorry, Mr. McGee. We've been trying to reach you all day, but the first number we had was out of order and then, we just didn't seem to be getting through."_

The words washed over Tim almost without meaning. With some effort, he gathered his thoughts.

"You...need me to identify her?"

"_Yes, if you could."_

"Of course. I...I'll be over as soon as I can."

"_Do you know where the morgue is, Mr. McGee?"_

"Yes. I do. Thank you."

"_Just ask for Det. Lloyd when you get here."_

"Okay. Thank you. Good-bye."

Tim hung up and walked to his desk...and then sat down. He felt like he didn't know what to do with himself. After a few interminable seconds, there was a hand on his shoulder, shaking him a little.

"Tim? Tim, what happened?"

Tim looked up at Gibbs. Then, his eyes moved to Tony and Ziva who were both standing close by, looking very worried.

"Sarah...she's dead." Just saying the words made him feel like he was stuck in some alternate universe. "I'm...supposed to go...identify her body. My sister's body."

"Oh, man, McGee...I'm really sorry," Tony said.

"Maybe...maybe it's a mistake. Maybe they just think it's her. I'll go and it'll be fine." Tim pulled his phone up and picked Sarah's name from his list of contacts. The phone rang...and rang...and rang...and rang...and then went to voice mail. "She didn't answer."

Tim swallowed and tried to get his brain in gear. He couldn't fall apart right now. He needed to make sure there really was a reason to get upset. Sarah couldn't be dead. She had two weeks left of the semester and she'd be sequestered in the library. Maybe that was why she wasn't answering her phone.

"That could be it." He looked at Gibbs. "Do you mind if I go over and...and straighten this out? I can...I can come back after."

"I'll take you over, McGee," Gibbs said.

"You don't have to. I can..."

"I'll give you a ride over," Gibbs said firmly.

"Okay," Tim said with a slow nod.

He got up, put on his jacket and followed Gibbs out of the bullpen.

The ride over to the morgue was mostly silent.

"Tim?"

"Yeah, Boss?"

"Are you ready for what you're going to see?"

"I've seen bodies before, Boss."

"Not family."

"Maybe it won't be her," Tim said and stared out the windshield. He was holding on to that thought with single-minded desperation. That was what could save him.

"And if it is?"

"I'll...deal with that when it comes. Nothing I can do about it. Right?"

"Right."

Tim cleared his throat and waited for them to get to the morgue. When they got there, he got out of the car and walked in without waiting for Gibbs. No sense in putting it off. He heard Gibbs catch up with him, but he focused on walking to the front desk.

"Hi. I'm looking for Det. Lloyd. My name is Tim McGee."

"Oh, of course. Just wait right here for a moment."

Tim nodded. It was only a minute or two before a tall, burly man came out. He looked slightly gone to seed and his hairline had begun an inevitable creep back on his head.

"Det. Lloyd. I'm Tim McGee. This is my...my boss, Agent Gibbs."

"Agent?"

"NCIS," Gibbs said shortly.

"Oh. Then, you must know how this goes."

"Yeah. To the morgue."

"That's right. This way."

Tim nodded and followed him. To the morgue. Where the bodies were. Tim was suddenly seized of a deep desire to run away and hide from what was coming. But he kept walking. Where could he go, really? ...and there was a part of him that had decided it couldn't possibly be Sarah because Sarah wouldn't be in a place where she could die. She'd be in the library finishing up her semester.

Then, there they were. Det. Lloyd said something unintelligible. Another person said something equally meaningless and then the sheet was pulled back.

...and Tim felt as though his whole world had tunneled.

It was Sarah. Sarah was on that slab. Sarah was dead.

"Where?" Tim whispered softly. "Where was she?"

"In the library. Locked in one of the bathrooms. Janitor found her there this morning."

"In the library."

"Yeah."

"How?"

There was a silence and Tim looked up at Det. Lloyd.

"You said you thought it was suicide. Why?"

Det. Lloyd nodded to the ME who lifted part of the sheet and showed Tim one of Sarah's wrists. It was slashed, vertically following the vein.

Tim stared at it for a few seconds.

"Someone could have _done_ this to her. Right? It doesn't _have_ to be suicide, does it?"

"Did your sister have any enemies?"

"No...not that I know of, but that doesn't mean..."

"Agent McGee, we're looking into it, but right now, it looks like your sister killed herself. Had she seemed depressed at all?"

"She was a little...stressed by the...the semester. She's a grad student. It's hard work sometimes, and you wonder why you're doing it," Tim said. "But that's all. It wasn't bad enough for this. My sister wouldn't do this. She wouldn't! It's not..."

Gibbs hadn't said anything so far, but as Tim sputtered and tried to explain that, in spite of the evidence staring them in the face, Sarah couldn't have killed herself, he quietly intervened.

"Do you need my agent anymore tonight?"

Tim tried to keep talking but he ran out of words and fell silent as Gibbs just talked around him.

"No. No, but we'll need to have a full statement. It can wait until tomorrow."

"You have his number still?"

"Yeah. We'll call."

"Thanks. McGee, let's go."

Tim shook his head. "Boss, this can't be right. It _can't_! We've already gone through this kind of thing in my family once! Sarah knows how that feels. She wouldn't do this to herself! She wouldn't!"

"Let's go, McGee," Gibbs said quietly.

The ME gently covered Sarah's face, and Tim had to restrain himself from wanting to pull it back so that Sarah could breathe. Sarah had never liked having blankets over her face when she was little. She never hid under the covers. She had teddy bears but not a special blanket that might cover her face.

...but Sarah didn't need to breathe any longer. She would never breathe again.

Before he knew it, Tim was back out in the open air, breathing in the humid DC night. He could hardly take in everything around him. Gibbs was simply directing him back to the car.

"This is a mistake, Boss," Tim said. "It has to be a mistake. There's no way. No _way_ that Sarah...that she could..."

"Sometimes, people do, Tim."

"But not Sarah!" Tim burst out. "My dad almost committed suicide. It tore our family apart, strained us almost to the breaking point. Sarah knows that! We wouldn't..._she_ wouldn't!"

Tim turned away from Gibbs and walked a few paces away.

"I'll have to call home...and tell my parents. How am I going to tell them?"

"Just say the words. What needs to come next will be natural."

Tim nodded, feeling no better.

"There's still the...what happened with Tommy," he said finally. "I'd got through the stuff but I hadn't finished sorting it to make sure there was nothing I'd missed. ...and Cybercrimes is still short-staffed."

"They can manage without you."

"Okay," Tim said. He felt like, for the moment, he had no will of his own and that, if left to his own devices, he'd just drift along on the sidewalk until he ran into something. "What do I do, then?"

"Call your parents and then get some sleep."

"Sleep?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. I need to get my car from the Yard."

"I don't think you should be driving. I'll just drop you off."

"Okay."

"But not at your place."

"What?"

"You're not staying by yourself tonight, Tim."

"Okay."

Tim glanced at Gibbs and the faintest hint of a smile. He supposed that this easy agreement was not what Gibbs was expecting.

"Just let me give Ducky a call. His place is more comfortable than mine."

"Okay."

Gibbs stepped a bit away from Tim and pulled out his phone. Tim watched him for a few seconds and then pulled out his own. Slowly, he dialed his parents' phone number. It felt so difficult, like the buttons had been superglued. Then, he put the phone to his ear and listened to it ring.

Like Sarah's phone had rung.

Only she'd never answer.

Because she was dead.

"_Tim! You're still alive!" _Naomi said happily. _"We haven't heard from you in ages. Sarah told us that you'd been commandeered by NCIS every waking moment."_

"Yeah," Tim said, but he knew his voice sounded strangled, even in that one short word.

"_What's wrong, Tim?"_

"Get Dad on the phone, too, Mom," Tim said.

"_All right. Sam! Something's going on. Tim needs us both on the phone!"_

It only took a few seconds for the extension to click on.

"_I'm here, Tim. What's happened?"_

"Sarah's dead," Tim said, not knowing how he could possibly get around just saying it.

"_Dead? How? When?"_

"Just today. Metro called me. I'm outside the morgue. I saw her. She's dead."

"_How did it happen? Was it car accident or something?"_

"No. They found her in the library," Tim said. He swallowed hard. "Her wrists were...slit open."

"_Suicide?"_ Naomi asked carefully.

"That's what they think, but they don't know yet," Tim said, trying to sound firm, but his voice was too shaky. "She wasn't feeling the best about school and stuff, but that doesn't mean that..." He stopped talking because he could feel his lower lip shaking and that meant that the tears would fall if he didn't stop them.

"_What's going to happen now?"_ Sam asked.

"They have to investigate...make sure they know what really happened. Then..."

"_We can bury her,"_ Naomi said softly.

"Yeah."

He heard Naomi take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"_Okay. Um...we'll start...making arrangements I guess. No...we'll come down to DC first. Then, we'll figure out what to do from there. Thanks for calling us, Tim. That's not the easiest call to make."_

"No, it's not," Tim agreed.

"_We love you, Tim,"_ Sam said. _"No matter what."_

"Thanks, Dad. Love you, too."

There was nothing else that could be said in this moment; so they all just said good-bye. Tim looked at Gibbs.

"Well?" Gibbs asked.

"They're going to come down here and...and see what to do."

"Ducky has his spare room all ready."

"You sure you don't need me to put in some more time at work?" Tim asked.

"You need to sleep...get ready to face tomorrow...to face waking up and knowing that nothing's changed from the night before. That's worse than the first time you hear it."

Tim found a smile somewhere. "That's not exactly comforting, Boss."

"I know. Let's go."

Tim nodded and let Gibbs direct him back to the car. They drove to Ducky's home and got out.

"Wait...Jethro...he's all alone in my apartment. I haven't been there all day."

"Give me your keys. I'll go check on him."

Tim handed over his keys without a thought as the front door opened.

"Timothy, come inside. I'm so sorry to hear about Sarah. I have the bed all made up for you. Just kick off your shoes. Have a lie down. Things will likely look better in the morning."

Tim laughed a little. "That's not what Gibbs said."

Then, he walked into the bedroom and closed the door.

Silence.

Nothing but the press of his thoughts.

_Sarah is dead. Sarah is dead. Sarah is dead._

He kept repeating it over and over in his head as he lay down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling.

He didn't feel tired at all. He just lay there and stared at it.

_Sarah is dead._

Sarah wouldn't do this to them. She wouldn't. It had to be something else. It _couldn't_ be suicide. It just couldn't.

He let his mind wander over the other possibilities. They were all ridiculous, but suicide...no. Not that.

Anything but that.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

After the door closed behind Tim, Ducky looked at Gibbs.

"What happened to her?"

"They're saying suicide."

"Oh, dear. Is it likely?"

"Yeah." Gibbs sighed. "Slit her wrists. She was locked in a bathroom at the library. Apparently, she'd been stressed out by her graduate program."

"Oh, dear...and with Timothy's family history..."

"He doesn't want to believe it, Duck. While we were there, he kept trying to say that there was no way it could happen. He said that Sarah wouldn't do this to them. If it's what it looks like, I'm a little worried."

"Yes, although some of that could just be the initial shock, and I wouldn't blame him."

"I wouldn't either, but still..."

"Yes, I will see what he's like in the morning. We'll all do our best to help him through this. His parents?"

"They're coming. He called them. He's pretty cut off at the moment, Ducky."

"You think I should watch him tonight?"

"I don't think he'll _do_ anything, but, yeah."

"Of course. I got the sense that he was only barely listening to what I was saying."

"Yeah. I think there were a couple of times when he really didn't hear what was being said. He was just there."

Ducky shook his head. "In one so young. It's a tragedy, and if it _is_ suicide, it is a double tragedy because it's something that didn't have to happen...except in her own mind."

"Thanks, Duck."

"That is what one does for friends, Jethro...as I would have done for you had it been necessary."

Gibbs smiled.

"Good night. I'm going to fill in Tony and Ziva...and Abby. Will Jimmy be around tomorrow?"

"Yes, I believe he is on the schedule. Speaking of...will Timothy be working?"

"Probably, if _he_ has anything to say about it, but I don't think he should be."

"He was already worn out with all the work he was doing for Cybercrimes on top of his regular tasks. This will not have helped him."

"No."

"All right. I'll check on him in an hour or two. If he's awake, as I think he will be, I'll try to get him to talk it out. Sharing some of what you feel inside can help alleviate the pain although not remove it."

"All right."

Gibbs left and Ducky looked down the hall toward the spare room with a worried frown. Tim had been running himself ragged trying to keep up with his job _and_ doing the Cybercrimes work Thomas Sakota had been doing. Actually, Gibbs and Ducky had been discussing telling Vance to either hurry up the job search or get someone who could be a dedicated substitute rather than having one of his regular employees, in essence, doing two jobs at once. Tim hadn't complained much and he'd been doing well with both, but it was too much for one person to handle for very long.

Now, however, with Tim's loss, he would probably need time to work through it. The loss of any family member was difficult. A younger sister, one Tim felt protective of, would be worse...and to stack suicide on top of that, particularly in Tim's case. He was going to need all the help he could get.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

When Gibbs got back to NCIS, as he had suspected, Tony and Ziva had been joined by Abby and they were all talking together in a low voice. As soon as he came in, they stopped their conversation.

"Boss, what happened?" Tony asked.

"No mistake?" Ziva asked.

"Where's Tim?" Abby asked.

"No, there's no mistake," Gibbs said, answering Ziva first. "Sarah is dead. Looks like suicide. Slit her wrists. McGee is with Ducky for tonight. We'll see about tomorrow. His parents are coming."

"Oh, man. This is going to hit the Probie hard. You know he won't take it well," Tony said.

"He's not taking it much at all right now."

"Vance won't make him work for Cybercrimes right now, will he?" Abby asked. "Tim was barely holding it together before!"

"McGee won't be working at all if I have any say in it," Gibbs said. "But he might insist on it."

"Ducky will help him if anyone will," Ziva said.

"Abby, he hadn't finished double-checking Sakota's files. Can you do that in the morning?" Gibbs asked.

"Of course."

Gibbs nodded and then strode to the stairs. He needed to report to Vance. As he left, he heard them talking in low voices, wondering what they could do to help Tim get through the next little while as easily as possible. Privately, Gibbs wasn't sure what would help at the start. But lightening his workload would help somewhat...and _that_ was something he could do something about right now...and _should_ have done much earlier.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim was still staring at the ceiling when he heard a soft knock on the door.

"Yeah?"

"May I come in, Timothy?"

Tim sat up.

"Sure, Ducky."

The door opened.

"I didn't think you would be asleep."

Tim shrugged a little. The initial shock was wearing off now, leaving a kind of void in its wake. He was sure that he'd feel something again later, but right now, he felt rather...dull and empty.

"Would you like to talk?"

"About what?" Tim asked. "The fact that my sister is dead or the fact that they're just assuming that she has to have killed herself?"

"Is there any reason to question what appears to be correct?" Ducky asked, his voice gentle.

Tim didn't like the tenor of the question.

"Was there any reason to suspect that someone would set my sister up to be raped because she wrote something nasty on a blog?" he shouted. "Why does there have to be an expected reason? We investigate crimes all the time that have reasons we don't expect!"

"True enough, and Metro will investigate as is their job, but what they've found so far seems to be that your sister did commit suicide, however painful that is to accept."

"No," Tim said, firmly. "No. My sister wouldn't do that. Sarah wouldn't do that to us. So there has to be another explanation."

"There may be, but Timothy, when people are in the throes of suicidal feelings, they aren't thinking of anyone but themselves. Their anguish is such that there is little room for anything else in their world."

Tim shook his head. "You don't know her. Sarah has always been much more settled than the rest of us. She's more confident than I am and she's more skilled at what she wanted to do. She was having a hard time with grad school, but that's not enough to get her down for long. She only had a couple more weeks."

Ducky's expression was sympathetic, but Tim could see that he didn't believe it.

"I'm not in the mood for this, Ducky. My sister is dead, and I don't need people saying things like that about her."

"My apologies."

Tim doubted Ducky's sincerity.

"I'm tired, Ducky."

"Very well, I will leave you to sleep. Good night."

Ducky stood and walked to the door but paused and turned back for a moment.

"No matter the cause of her death, Timothy, your sister loved you. I don't doubt that for a second."

Tim lay back down on the bed and stared at the ceiling.

"Good night, lad."

The door closed. Tim stared, his stomach tied in knots, and he willed the deadened, dull feeling to come back again.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"We need to talk about McGee," Gibbs said with no preamble.

"In what respect?" Vance asked, looking up from a pile of paper on his desk, one among many. He seemed more than a little distracted.

"He needs some time off and when he comes back, he needs to _not_ be working with Cybercrimes."

"Time off? What for?"

"His sister committed suicide. Metro called him a couple of hours ago."

He finally had Vance's attention.

"That's terrible. Of course..." Vance looked at his piles and Gibbs realized that he hadn't seen any sign of Pamela that day.

"Where's your assistant?"

Vance started searching through the piles.

"Taking a well-earned vacation, unfortunately. She'll be back in a couple of days. The temporary assistant only works nine to five...and I spent most of that time trying to put out fires. This is the first chance I've had in a week to go through Thomas Sakota's possible replacement. Anyone who gets hired has to be vetted and that's taking more time than I'd like."

Delays in one area led to delays everywhere else. No one at fault, just the slow cogs of government turning.

"How many days will Agent McGee need off?"

"I'm not sure yet."

"Okay. Cybercrimes can function on its own for a day or two and then..."

"McGee can't keep doing this," Gibbs said. "It's too much."

Vance sighed. "I know. I've been trying to get a candidate cleared, but it's taking too long."

"Can't you get a substitute from somewhere else?"

"The person who comes in has to be able to deal with the computer geeks. Sakota was in charge, more or less, although not officially. They looked up to him. Do you want to inflict that on someone who has no context? The only reason I put Agent McGee down there was because they already trusted him and I knew he could do the job."

"Doesn't matter, Leon. He can't do this right now. It's too much, especially with his sister having died like she did."

Vance nodded. "You're right. I'll check with the FBI, call in a few favors. Maybe one of the other agencies can spare someone right now. What day is it? Monday? Someone should still be around over there."

Gibbs could see that Vance was being worn a little thin himself.

"Couldn't HR cover this?"

"On a normal day, yes. But it hasn't been a normal day. They're getting an overhaul of all their programs this week and it's tying everything up, slowing things down. I swear it's like the Fates have conspired to make everything as difficult as possible for everyone."

"It's working."

"Yeah, it is. Thanks for letting me know about Agent McGee. I'll get on that tonight. If they have a day or two to muddle through on their own, maybe they'll get a little more backbone down there. They're fine when it comes to their computers, but anything outside of that and they need someone to follow."

Gibbs was about to leave when he stopped. "Hey...isn't what's his name still down there?"

"Who?"

"The one you stuck on my team."

"Agent Keating? Yes, he's down there."

"Put him in charge until you can find someone new. If it's authority they need, he was a full field agent. He wasn't great up here, but he knew what he was doing. Give him a chance, see what he's got. If things don't work out, you'll know it pretty quick."

Vance looked at him suspiciously for a second. "Are you actually trying to be _helpful_, Agent Gibbs?"

Gibbs smiled. "I can do that occasionally."

"You have an ulterior motive this time."

"Yeah, but it can help you out, too, can't it?"

Vance looked at his pile.

"Yes. I could actually think about going home tonight."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, fine. Your suggestion is noted and it makes sense, Gibbs. Tell Agent McGee that he's not to worry about Cybercrimes and once he knows his schedule with regards to his sister, he just needs to let me know when he'll be able to come back. ...and let him know that I'm sorry. It sounds trite, but it's sincere."

"I'll pass that along."

"Thanks. Good night, Gibbs."

Vance leaned back over his piles of paper and Gibbs left him to it. As he headed back to the bullpen, it came to him that Vance was right. It _did_ seem like everything was piling up lately. Not on everyone, but Tim, Vance, HR. There were times when the overload just seemed to cascade down the chain, leaving everyone stressed.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_Three days later..._

"_Hello. Is this Agent Gibbs?"_

Gibbs furrowed his brow. "Yes. Who is this?"

"_Detective Johnson from Metro. I work with Detective Lloyd. You met him?"_

"Yeah. What is it?"

"_Do you have the time to come over here and talk to your agent? We don't want to throw him out, but he's getting unreasonable, and we don't need this right now."_

"What is _this_?"

"_He's demanding that we reopen his sister's case and look into murder, which we did already. He's accusing us of covering things up just to make it easier. He says that he knows it's impossible that his sister could have killed herself."_

Gibbs felt the furrow deepen. Tim hadn't been at NCIS for the past three days. His parents had arrived two days before and Tim was back at his apartment. He'd talked to him, as had the others, and Tim had seemed upset but nothing like this.

"_We're hoping that he'll listen to you before we're forced to kick him out."_

Gibbs sighed. He should have known that Tim wouldn't let things go so easily, but he'd hoped that, with his parents around, he would bow to reality...and, however unpleasant it was, reality said that Sarah had committed suicide.

"Where is he?"

"_We have him in an interrogation room right now, but I don't know that he'll be willing to stay there for much longer. Dave is trying to explain things to him. ...that's Det. Lloyd."_

"Is he out of control in any way?"

"_Not yet, but if I'm any judge, he's on his way there unless someone can diffuse the situation, and he's not listening to us."_

"Okay. I'll be right over." He hung up and got to his feet.

"What's up, Boss?" Tony asked.

"McGee."

Ziva raised her eyebrows. "What do you mean? Has something happened to _him_?"

Tony and Ziva exchanged worried looks.

"No. I just need to go talk to him. I'll be back."

"Need us to come?"

"No. Just wait. Maybe tonight."

"Okay."

Gibbs left NCIS and started the drive over to the Second District office. He wasn't really _surprised_ that Tim was still upset about the conclusions drawn, but he _was_ surprised that he was confronting them about it. He wondered where Tim's parents were and why it was that today was the day for this. From what he'd gathered by talking to Tim the night before, they'd got the news that there was no evidence supporting anything more than suicide yesterday, not today. No one had mentioned that Tim was any more upset than one would expect with a family member dying.

When he got to the office, he headed inside and asked for Det. Lloyd and Det. Johnson. He was sent back immediately to the interrogation room. Tim was in there, not shouting but talking very angrily and he definitely didn't look like he'd remain even this calm for much longer.

"Agent Gibbs?"

Gibbs turned and saw a man significantly younger than Det. Lloyd.

"Det. Johnson?"

"That's me. You see what I mean?"

"Yeah."

He sighed. "Normally, we wouldn't bother calling anyone. If he refused to listen, we'd just escort him out, but he's in law enforcement, too. We don't want to show him any disrespect, and we understand that it's hard to accept."

"Yeah. Okay. Show me _exactly_ what you used to come to your conclusion. All the evidence. I'm going to need it to get him to listen."

Det. Johnson bristled slightly. "It can't be anything else, Agent Gibbs. We even checked out the people involved in the attempted rape four years ago. There's just _nothing_ to support it beyond Agent McGee insisting that we're wrong. Even _he_ can't come up with an explanation."

"I know. Just show me the file, the evidence, everything. McGee is the kind of person who will need all the details, even if he'll hate hearing them...and he'll accept them from me...eventually."

"Okay. I have it right here."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Do you know where Tim is, Sam?" Naomi asked.

Sam shook his head. "He barely said a word at breakfast this morning. He must have slipped out right after."

Naomi nodded. "I was hoping he could help out with...contacting Sarah's friends. Some of them already seem to know, but Tim probably knows more about them than we do."

"Maybe. Tim was really upset this morning."

"More than last night?"

"Yeah, I think so. He was quieter this morning."

"You're right," Naomi said, nodding. "I'm afraid that I haven't been noticing as much."

She sat down beside him and leaned on his shoulder.

"Sam...of all the things that could have happened. Why didn't she say she was having so much trouble? She didn't have to go to grad school to impress us. We would have been happy with whatever made her happy."

Sam hugged Naomi tightly. "I don't know. Part of me is afraid that...that because she had seen it once..."

"No. No, this isn't your fault, Sam. We're not going to fall into the trap of assigning blame. It's horrible enough as it is. I don't know if there's a correlation and I don't care. All I care about is keeping us together. Sarah is gone and..." Naomi had to swallow her tears. "...and we have to go on, even knowing that she chose this path for herself. We have to accept that we couldn't stop her."

"Okay. Okay. Tim knows that we're going to make arrangements to get Sarah...back to Ohio. He'll be here. ...but if he's not here soon, we'll call him."

"Okay." Naomi took a breath. "I didn't have any idea that she was feeling like this."

"Neither did I."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs walked into the interrogation room, file in hand, feeling almost like he was about to interrogate a suspect.

"Det. Lloyd. Can you give us a few minutes?"

Det. Lloyd looked relieved. "Of course, Agent Gibbs. Go right ahead."

Gibbs tossed the file onto the table as the detective left.

"Have a seat, Tim."

"They aren't listening to me, Boss!" Tim said, angrily. "They won't even..."

"Sit down."

Tim sat down.

"Now, I want _you _to listen to _me_, Tim. Listen to what I'm saying before you fly off the handle. These guys have done everything they can. Are you listening?"

"I'm not going to sit here and..."

"Are you listening to me, McGee?" Gibbs asked. He kept his voice very calm and didn't raise it at all. He knew that Tim was upset, but he could also see that it was a lot less about Metro than he was acting like it was.

Tim subsided.

"Yes, Boss."

"Good." He opened the file, but he kept the photos hidden. Tim didn't need to see that. They were unpleasant at best. "They found Sarah's body on Monday morning, but the time of _death _was estimated to be Sunday afternoon...basically, right after she talked to you."

"That doesn't–"

"Listen!"

Tim let out a quick breath and stared at the table.

"Sarah had no known enemies. But she _had _been seeing a therapist for the last six months."

Tim looked up. "What?"

Gibbs was surprised that Tim seemed surprised. "Sarah was seeing a therapist. Apparently, she'd been struggling with feelings of..." he looked down. "...inadequacy and fear that she was failing not only grad school but also failing you."

"No...she...would have...told me..."

"They have statements from her therapist, Tim. Her friends said that she'd been withdrawn and moody, but that she was still attending all her classes. She was comparing herself to you a lot in their conversations with her."

"I told her that there was no reason to do that," Tim said softly. "If anything, she was better off than me."

Gibbs got onto the worst part of what he was going to do.

"When they found her body in the bathroom, the door was locked from the inside. The razor she'd used was beside her. No other fingerprints on the razor. There was a paper with instructions on how to commit suicide using a razor. The time stamp on them was for three weeks ago and the information was on her laptop."

Tim was listening but it was a bitter pill he had to swallow. He said nothing. Gibbs pressed on.

"There is no evidence of anyone else in the bathroom with her. The fingerprints they did find were to people who had alibis and had no connection to her at all. Just people who had used the bathroom before she went in there. There were no smudges in the blood that was on the floor or on the sink...or on her."

Tim winced at the imagery.

"The only other prints were those of the janitor who found her, and he has an alibi for Sunday afternoon. Tim, Sarah committed suicide. I know you don't want to accept it, but that's the truth. She'd been thinking about it for at least three weeks. She'd been having trouble for six months. She talked to you and was still having trouble right before. It was probably her way of saying good-bye to you."

Tim closed his eyes. "I was going to call Mom and Dad...but I had...so much work to do. I thought I could wait."

"It wouldn't have made a difference, Tim. She'd made up her mind, planned it out in advance."

"Why didn't she say something? I was busy, but I would have made time for her. I would have...have...done something about it! Sunday...was the first time I'd even known that..."

Gibbs shook his head, although Tim couldn't see him. "Tim, when someone makes that decision...they don't want anyone to stop them. I know _I_ didn't."

Tim's eyes opened. "What do you mean _you_ didn't?"

"After my family was killed, all I wanted was to die myself. I wasn't interested in being saved by anyone."

"But you were."

"Yeah, I was...and the path I took is not one I'd recommend."

Tim looked at the table.

"You're telling me I have to let this go."

"If the choice is between that and trying to see what isn't there, yes. Your sister is dead, Tim! Sarah is dead and gone and she's not coming back. Whether she killed herself or not, she's gone. ...and she did kill herself, Tim."

Tim's eyes strayed from the table right in front of him to the open file.

"That's her case file?"

"Yeah."

"There's a picture of her in there?"

"Yeah."

"Let me see."

"No, McGee."

"I need to see."

"No, you don't. You don't need to see her like they found her."

"Yes, I do."

Tim reached out for the file. Gibbs knew this wouldn't help but he could also see that Tim wouldn't believe that. He weighed which would be worse: refusing Tim's desire or at least being there when Tim _did_ see it. He had no doubt that Tim would find some way to see it himself later if he really wanted to.

"Okay. Just one of them."

Tim nodded mutely.

Gibbs looked through the case photos and found one that showed a view of the restroom as a whole. Sarah was on the floor, one of her slit wrists was in clear view. The blood was matted in her hair, her eyes were closed, thankfully, but her skin seemed completely white. Bloodless. There were tracks of blood down the sides of the white sink. It was a horrible scene and he _really_ didn't want Tim to see it, but he slid the photo across the table.

Tim picked it up and looked at it. He looked for a long time. Then, he carefully set it down...so carefully that Gibbs almost couldn't see his hands shaking. Almost. He got to his feet and looked toward Gibbs but he didn't seem to be seeing him.

"You're right. Sarah killed herself. My sister committed suicide."

Then, he turned on his heel and walked out of the room.

Gibbs left the file where it was, figuring that Lloyd and Johnson could take care of it themselves. He hurried out of interrogation.

"Which way?" he asked.

Det. Johnson pointed.

"Thanks."

"I didn't do it for you," Gibbs said. "I did it for him."

He hurried after Tim and caught him at his car...and he didn't think Tim should be driving right now.

"Tim, wait."

Tim stopped and turned around. He didn't look happy.

"Look, I admitted it. That's what you wanted. Now, leave me alone."

"No, Tim. That's not what I wanted. It's what _you_ needed."

"Stop making this into some great and wonderful thing, Boss. My sister is dead. She killed herself. What more do you want?"

"It's not what I want. It's reality."

"Yeah, well, reality sucks!"

"Yeah, it does. Doesn't change things."

Tim turned around and stared at his car.

"What do you want now?"

"Where are you headed?"

"Back to my parents' hotel."

"I'll give you a ride."

"I don't need a ride. My car is right here."

"I know. I don't think you should be driving."

"Why not? I'm fine. My sister committed suicide and I'm _fine_!"

"No, you're not. You're upset, like you should be. And you shouldn't be driving when you're upset."

"My car is right here."

"I can get someone else to get it for you."

"Why are you here, Boss?"

"Because you needed someone here, and I was around."

Tim laughed a little.

"You're not going to let me drive, are you."

"Nope."

Tim turned back around.

"Fine. Let's go."

Gibbs smiled at him.

"Keys?"

"You're not going to let me drive today at all?"

"Be honest, McGee. Do you really think you _should_ be?"

Tim shrugged. "Guess not." He tapped his molars together a few times. "My sister is dead."

"I know. I'm sorry about that."

Tim swallowed and nodded. He handed Gibbs his car keys.

"Let's go, Tim."

"Okay."

For the second time in the last four days, Gibbs was driving Tim somewhere...and Tim didn't seem a whole lot better than he had the first time around.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"Tim?"

Tim looked away from the window.

"Yeah, Mom?"

"You didn't say where you were."

"I was talking to Metro. Gibbs gave me a ride over here."

"Tim, what's going on?" Sam asked.

"Nothing, Dad. Nothing besides the fact that Sarah killed herself. Isn't that enough?"

Sam rolled over to Tim.

"Tim, please don't cut yourself off. Don't pretend that you're not feeling anything."

"How do you think I feel, Dad?" Tim asked. "My sister is dead. What do you think I'm feeling that I'm not showing? I'm upset. I'm sad. What more do you want?"

"I want you to let us in," Naomi said.

"'Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak whispers the o'er-fraught heart and bids it break.' Shakespeare," Sam said softly.

Tim didn't bite. "I miss Sarah and I'm sorry that she's dead. What else do you want me to say?"

Sam started to speak but Naomi put her hand on his shoulder.

"Tim, we'd like to let Sarah's friends know about what happened, although they might already, and let them know about the funeral arrangements."

Tim nodded, relieved for the reprieve. "Carolyn would probably...be able to let everyone else know."

"Which one is Carolyn?" Sam asked.

"The one who...who hooked up with Jeff Petty after he dumped Sarah. They got close after the whole...case. I can call her. The number will be in Sarah's phone."

Tim walked over to the box with Sarah's personal effects, although she hadn't had much with her... He picked up her phone and tried not to notice the blood that hadn't been cleaned off. When he woke it up, he noticed the missed call...from himself. Quickly, he searched through her list of contacts and found Carolyn. Then, he dialed the number and turned away from his parents and looked out the window. It would be better to face the window in case he had to cover anything up.

The phone rang. ...and rang. ...and rang. ...like Sarah's phone had done. Then, there was a connection.

"_Hello?"_ The voice sounded a little choked up.

"Hi, Carolyn?"

"_Yes. Who is this?"_

"This is Tim McGee. Sarah's brother."

"_Oh...I remember you from...before. Sarah talked about you a lot."_

"You've heard?"

"_Yes. I'm so sorry, Tim. I knew that Sarah had been feeling discouraged, but nothing like this."_

"I know. It's okay. We've made arrangements to get her body moved to Ohio for the...the funeral. It's going to be next week...on Tuesday at eleven. Anyone who wants to come is welcome."

"_Thanks. She was so happy to be having brunch with you on Sunday,"_ Carolyn said. _"It had been a long time, she said, and she really missed being able to do things with you, but you were always so busy with work. ...and her program was really taking a lot of her time, too. I wish I had known. I would have done more with her, tried to help her. I thought that the counselor she was seeing was helping...but I guess it wasn't enough."_

Tim swallowed back the question he wanted to ask about how long Carolyn had known that Sarah was seeing someone.

"It's not your fault, Carolyn. Can you let others know? I don't...really know a lot of Sarah's friends."

"_I can, and I will. I don't know how many will be able to make it, but we'll be thinking of you all. I don't go to church much, but I'm going to attend Mass and light a candle for her."_

"Thanks," Tim said, and that was all he _could_ say.

As quickly as he could, he said his good-byes and hung up. There were some things swirling around in his brain but he steadfastly ignored them.

"Tim?"

"Carolyn is going to let Sarah's other friends know about the funeral. She said that she's going to light a candle for Sarah."

"That's very kind of her," Naomi said softly.

"Yeah, it is."

"Tim."

Tim forced himself to turn around. "Do you want to go and look through Sarah's stuff in her apartment or should we wait? The manager said that we could take our time, and I'll bet that her roommate would be willing to help us out if we asked."

"Why don't you and I go and do that, Tim?" Naomi suggested. "We can just get it boxed up as much as possible and see if there's anything her friends might want."

Sam tried to smile but it didn't look very sincere. "Why do my children insist on living in walkups?" he asked.

Naomi hugged him tightly. "Because they want to make your life difficult, of course. You can get the rest of the details sorted out with...the cemetery." There were tears in her eyes, but not a single one fell.

They were all restrained in their emotions, not because they didn't feel them, Tim knew, but because of the situation. None of them could keep from thinking about the first time suicide had affected them.

"I think I can manage that," Sam said. "We do what we can."

Tim remembered that Gibbs still had his keys...and his car.

"Mom, you need to drive. Gibbs has my keys."

"Why? What happened to your car?"

"Nothing. He just didn't think I should be driving."

Tim could tell that his mother wanted to ask him why but she didn't.

"Okay, Tim. You head down. I'll catch up."

Tim nodded and left the room. He figured that his parents were going to talk about him for a minute or two. He wasn't in the mood to analyze his thoughts right now. This wasn't about him. It was about his sister and nothing was going to come before laying her to rest. Nothing.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"So he has accepted it, then?" Ziva asked.

"More or less."

"Meaning he's allowing it to be true without accepting it," Tony said. "Is he that messed up, Boss?"

"Hard to tell. He's not saying much yet. He's upset and he didn't want to admit that Sarah could have killed herself."

"But he has?"

"Yeah."

"More or less," Tony said.

"Yeah," Gibbs said.

"We should try to get him out tonight if his parents don't need him. It would be good to get away from it...as much as he can."

"Which will not be much," Ziva pointed out. "Still, it would be good...if he will come. He may not want to."

"Yeah...maybe we should get Abby to ask him."

Ziva smiled. "If anyone could convince him, it would be Abby."

"Maybe."

Gibbs smiled. He was glad that they were doing their best to help, but he wasn't sure if it would work like they hoped it would. There was _something_ that Tim wasn't saying, but he was actually hiding it very well...better than Gibbs would have thought he could...which meant that Tim was bound and determined _not_ to share whatever it was. ...and it also meant that he probably _should_ share it. Time with friends might help. Might.

His phone rang. He figured it was Tim wanting his car back.

"Gibbs."

"_Hello, Agent Gibbs. This is Sam McGee."_

"Hi. What's up?"

"_That is what I'd like to ask _you_, actually. What happened when Tim left us this morning? He didn't say where he was going, but when he came back, he said that you had taken his car keys because he shouldn't be driving. Why not?"_

"He went to Metro. He was trying to deny that Sarah committed suicide. I had to show him all the evidence."

"_All of it?"_

"Yeah."

"_How did he take it?"_

"Badly, but he accepted it."

"_And you didn't think he should drive."_

"No, I didn't. He's too upset."

"_What more do you know?"_

"Nothing. Whatever he's thinking, he's not telling me. I figured he'd be more likely to tell you."

"_In normal circumstances, maybe. Not in this situation. You know that I almost committed suicide years ago, I assume?"_

"Yes. Tim told us about it."

"_I don't think he's going to be forthcoming with us."_

"Do you need him around tonight? His friends were wanting to take him out if he wanted."

"_I can't guarantee that he will, but it would be good for him to get away from it...even for a little while."_

"Thanks."

"_Thank _you_ for looking out for him. Tim needs people on his side."_

"He has lots."

"_I know. Good-bye, Agent Gibbs."_

"Bye."

Gibbs hung up and looked at Tony and Ziva.

"Ask him."

"Okay."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"What are we going to do with all her clothes?" Tim asked.

Naomi sighed. "I don't know. We should probably just give them away...a Good Will or Salvation Army. Something like that."

"Okay. Maybe we should ask her friends if they want anything," Tim said.

"Tim. Talk to me."

"This is not the time, Mom," Tim said firmly, placing a few of Sarah's notebooks into a box. "This is about Sarah, and it's going to stay that way. It's not about me."

"It's about all of us, Tim."

"No. It's about Sarah, and I'm not going to let anything or anyone distract from that. It's not going to happen."

Naomi walked over and knelt beside Tim.

"Tim, it can be about Sarah without forgetting yourself."

Tim looked at his mother and shook his head.

"No, Mom. I'm letting Sarah take precedence. That's it."

"All right, Tim...but life has to go on after. It can't stop, and no matter how she was feeling, Sarah wouldn't want that. It's okay to let yourself feel, Tim."

"There's a lot to pack up still, Mom," Tim said.

"Okay, Tim. I love you."

Naomi rubbed Tim's back for a moment and then went back to her work.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

It ended up that Ducky and Jimmy joined in the effort to get Tim away from what was going on in his life. After discussing who should do it, they decided to have Ducky make the call because he would be more likely to be able to tell whether or not it would be good to try to persuade Tim to come out with them.

...and they decided, at the last moment, _not_ to put the phone on speaker.

Ducky dialed Tim's number. It rang and rang and rang. Ducky almost thought that Tim wouldn't answer but finally, it connected.

"_Hi, Ducky."_

Tim sounded resigned.

"Hello, Timothy. I hear you've had a hard day."

"_Yeah. I know why you're calling, and I'm not good company right now."_

"I am not calling to invite you out so that _you_ may be good company for _us_, but so that _we_ may be good company for _you_. It will not be wild or lengthy, but I do think that it would be a good idea for you to get away from what's going on, just for an hour or two."

There was a long pause.

"_She's my sister, Ducky. I don't want to set her aside."_

"Understandable, but I'm not asking for that. Just a bit of time to help you recharge...so that you may return to conducting your sister to her final resting place more easily."

Another long pause.

"_Okay, Ducky. Where?"_

"Jethro has offered to open his home...or rather the grill in his backyard to us."

"_Good. I can get my keys back from him, then."_

"Yes, you may do that, indeed."

"_Someone will have to come and get me. I'm not having my mom drive me around."_

A small moment of levity...carrying so much sadness.

"I'm sure that can be arranged."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Jimmy volunteered to pick Tim up and the others headed over to Gibbs' place. When Tim arrived, he was quiet and withdrawn...much as they had expected him to be. Still, they were glad to have Tim there, and they didn't push him. About halfway through the meal, Tim cocked his head to the side as if suddenly remembering something.

"Did you find anything in Tommy's stuff?" he asked.

Abby shook her head. "No. You were really thorough, Tim. I didn't find a thing."

"Cause of death?"

"Looks like a robbery of some kind," Tony said. "No real suspects; so it's not a closed case, but we can be as sure as possible that it wasn't due to NCIS that he died."

"But you can't find who did it?"

"Not yet," Gibbs said. "It's not a cold case, but he'd been dead for a few days in his place before he was found. A home invasion could have the thieves across the country by now."

Tim nodded.

"So it's not really solved, then, is it."

"No, it's not."

Tim nodded again and fell silent.

"Hey...Tim?" Tony asked.

"Yeah?"

"Do you want us at the funeral or would you rather we not come?"

"Because we can all take a day. Ohio isn't far away. We could all make it if you want us there," Abby said.

"You couldn't all come," Tim said. "There's work to do."

"Most of us could, and Vance would understand...wouldn't he?" Jimmy asked. "I'd like to _think_ he would."

Tim let out a breath. "Actually, guys...I think I'd rather you didn't come."

Abby almost got her _why not?_ question out, but Ziva grabbed her arm.

"Very well, McGee. We will respect your wishes, but if you need us, call us."

"Thanks." Tim sighed. "I appreciate what you're doing, but I need to go home now...and I can drive myself, Boss."

"You sure?" Gibbs asked, and it was a genuine question.

"Yeah. I'm sure. I'll make it fine." Tim got to his feet. "The funeral is on Tuesday. I'll stay for a day or two after that and then I'll be back. Could you let Vance know? He's been really understanding about it all."

"We'll make sure it gets recorded appropriately, Timothy," Ducky said.

"Thanks. Bye, guys. See you next week."

Tim walked around the house and was gone. Abby sighed and bit her lip.

"Tim is so _sad_ right now. I want to hug him and never let him go."

"You did not hug him at all, Abby," Ziva pointed out.

"Because I could tell he didn't want me to...but I don't know why."

"Hopefully, he'll find some sense of closure at the funeral," Ducky said.

"I don't know," Jimmy said. "All the way over, Tim didn't say a word...except that there was always work to do when I mentioned the Cybercrimes stuff. I really think there's more going on than he's saying."

"There might be," Gibbs said. "But he's not going to tell us yet...and he's not telling his parents either."

"Are we doing the right thing, _not_ going to the funeral?" Abby asked.

"If that's what he wants, then, yes, Abigail," Ducky said. "It's right because Timothy has determined that to do otherwise would be wrong for whatever reason. ...and those reasons are his own. We shall have to respect them."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim fed Jethro, took him outside and then sat on the floor beside his bed and opened up one of Sarah's notebooks. It wasn't schoolwork, just writing.

_To see that moment, to feel the beauty and majesty of having arrived at that place where everything is right. That is what every writer strives for, that beautiful moment when what you write on the page is exactly what you see in your head, when what you are trying to express is exactly what you see and feel inside. How often does an author reach that moment in a lifetime? Once? Always? Did Tim touch that moment when he was writing? He's never said anything about it. Am I dreaming that it exists? But it must. It must exist in some way. There must be something that calls writers back and back. If it doesn't, then how do they face the anguish of failure time after time? What brings them back to the empty page again?_

Tim sighed. If that was Sarah's stream of consciousness, then she was miles ahead of him in her skills. Did she really think that she wasn't good enough when it was like night and day between her writing and his own? Tim considered himself having gotten lucky. Right place, right time. It wasn't that he was an amazing writer. He struggled to write in a way that wasn't completely over-the-top melodrama. ...and Sarah's free writing was beautiful.

And she'd never write another word. It was gone. She'd taken her words, her thoughts and no one could ever touch them.

He read through her notebooks until he couldn't stay awake any longer. Then, he pulled himself up onto his bed and fell asleep.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

_Two days later..._

"No," Tim said firmly. He wasn't being petulant. He was being firm.

"Tim, why not? You were so close to Sarah," Naomi said. "This is an opportunity to share some of that."

"I'm not going to do it, Mom," Tim said. "I will _not_ give the eulogy at Sarah's funeral. I'll be a pallbearer. I'll help carry the casket, but I'm not saying anything there."

They had been going round and round this issue for the last day, ever since they'd come back to Ohio. Tim had been surprisingly adamant in his refusal...and so far had also refused to say _why_.

Tim got to his feet to walk out of the study, but Sam caught him by the arm.

"Tim, you need to give us a reason why you don't want to say _anything_ at your sister's funeral."

Tim looked at Sam and then at Naomi, giving nothing away in his expression.

"I won't have the words to talk about her. You will. You can't even claim that Sarah would want me to because we don't know what Sarah would have wanted. Since we don't know, _I_ know that I don't want to be part of the program."

"It will look strange."

"I don't _care _how it will look!" Tim said. "Who cares how it will _look_? It's a funeral, not a press conference."

He strode out of the study and they heard the thumps on the stairs...meaning that he'd escaped one of his parents, even if he couldn't get away from both of them. Naomi sighed.

"We can't force him if he doesn't want to, Sam. And even if we could, we shouldn't."

"He's closed himself off completely, Naomi. I want him to talk to us."

Naomi sat down beside Sam and took his hand. She smiled slightly.

"'There is no grief like the grief that does not speak.' I think it's Longfellow."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "I thought quoting was _my_ job."

"You haven't done much of it since Sarah died."

"You're right. I haven't...and you're right about Longfellow."

"And Longfellow is right, too. Tim isn't speaking his grief right now, but the problem is that I don't think he will, no matter how much we try to push him to. Maybe if we give him some space, he'll come around on his own."

Sam stroked Naomi's cheek.

"He's the one who found me," he said softly. "I think he wishes he could have found Sarah and stopped her, too."

Naomi covered Sam's hand with her own.

"Of course, he does...but even if that's all it is, we're not going to be able to force him to tell us."

"'Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient endurance is godlike.' That's Longfellow, too."

Naomi smiled and kissed Sam.

"I'll do the life sketch. You do the eulogy. We'll give some time for friends to talk, too, if anyone wants to."

"Sounds like a plan." Sam looked up at the ceiling and sighed. "How did we miss this, Naomi?"

"I don't know, Sam. I wish I did."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Tuesday..._

"How stern are the woes of the desolate mourner  
As he bends in still grief o'er the hallowed bier,  
As enanguished he turns from the laugh of the scorner,  
And drops to perfection's remembrance a tear;  
When floods of despair down his pale cheeks are streaming,  
When no blissful hope on his bosom is beaming,  
Or, if lulled for a while, soon he starts from his dreaming,  
And finds torn the soft ties to affection so dear.  
Ah, when shall day dawn on the night of the grave,  
Or summer succeed to the winter of death?  
Rest awhile, hapless victim! and Heaven will save  
The spirit that hath faded away with the breath.  
Eternity points, in its amaranth bower  
Where no clouds of fate o'er the sweet prospect lour,  
Unspeakable pleasure, of goodness the dower,  
When woe fades away like the mist of the heath."

Sam sighed as he looked out on the congregation of mourners. There had been a lot of shocked sympathy at the viewing. Many of Sarah's friends had come, all expressed their disbelief. Tim was there, but he had said very little. Sam had heard a few of Sarah's teachers talking to Tim about how much Sarah had tried to emulate him in school, how she had wanted to perform to expectations laid down by Tim's high performance. Now, all that remained was this last bit and then to lay Sarah to rest. It still seemed unreal to Sam that he was burying his only daughter.

"As Shelley wrote, we, all of us, are mourning the loss of a friend, a daughter, a sister. We feel this bereavement. It is hard to imagine that this pain we feel is necessary, and the idea of what had led to it is mind-boggling, but all we can do is find comfort in each other and solace in knowing that none of us has to suffer this alone."

If anyone seemed alone in this, it was Tim, who, although he was sitting surrounded by people, still seemed separated from them. He had not taken his eyes from Sarah's casket once during the funeral proceedings.

"Sarah was our unexpected treasure. Our blessing. We've lost her, but we will never forget her."

Sam rolled back to the pew where Tim and Naomi sat. People got up, then, and shared remembrances of Sarah, and Sam tried to listen but his mind kept returning to the fact that his daughter had committed suicide. No matter what Naomi said, he couldn't help but think of it...particularly when he looked at Tim sitting beside them. Tim, who had walked in on his father getting ready to kill himself. Tim, who had said almost nothing, just stood there staring, letting Sam _really_ see what his almost-choice would have wrought on his family. His son who could only look at him with betrayal, fear and hurt in his eyes...and later, the horrible guilt that had plagued them all for years. The thoughts kept coming back to him...to the point that he knew he needed to talk to someone about it. Naomi had agreed with him and he'd set up an appointment with Dr. Jonas, his old psychiatrist.

Then, it was time for the graveside service. It wasn't long, and there were only a few people there. Tim kept his eyes on the casket. When the service was over, Naomi tried to urge him away, but he shook his head.

"No, I'm going to watch them finish."

"We'll stay."

"If you want. ...but I'm staying."

Naomi looked at Sam. Sam nodded. They stood together and watched the hole fill up with dirt, covering up the coffin...covering up Sarah.

As soon as it was done, Tim turned and walked away.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

There was a sense of...emptiness that came over them all that night. There was no longer any dread or anticipation of the coming funeral. Sarah was gone. She was dead and buried and now...what? Now, somehow, they had to slip back into the lives that had been uprooted by her death. It seemed both impossible and inevitable.

Tim sequestered himself upstairs for a while and then came down for dinner. They had casseroles to last them for days.

"How long are you staying, Tim?" Naomi asked.

"I'm going back to DC tomorrow."

"Back to work?"

"Yes."

"I'd hoped that you might stay here for a couple of days," Sam said.

Tim shook his head. "I can't. I have to get back to work."

"Haven't you put in enough time that you can take some time away?" Naomi asked. "Tim, no one expects you to get back to your routine right away."

"There's work to do, Mom."

"Work that no one else can do there?"

"If they don't need me working there, I wish they'd said something before," Tim said. "I have a job to do. I haven't been doing it for more than a week. I need to get back to doing my job."

"Tim, what aren't you telling us?"

"Nothing," Tim said. "My sister is dead. She's been buried but there's nothing I can do about it now. It's over and done with. I don't know what you're expecting me to say."

"Why do you think we're expecting something?" Sam asked. "Tim, it's obvious that you're holding something back. We just don't know what it is or why you won't tell us."

"There's nothing I'm not telling you. ...but I still have some of Sarah's notebooks. I'm reading through them. If you want me to give them to you, I can."

"You can keep them if you'd like. I do want to read them myself at some point," Sam said, but his voice was sad.

Tim nodded.

He left the next morning.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_Tim...stop me!"_

_Sarah held up her arms as blood ran everywhere, staining it all, the whole world, red. _

"_Just try to stop me, Tim!" she said and laughed, running away from Tim as he tried to stop Sarah from bleeding to death._

_She fell to the ground, shriveled up...and disintegrated into a pile of dust before he could reach her._

"_Sarah! No!"_

_The dust blew away, leaving Tim alone in a parched desert._

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Thursday..._

Tim woke up and looked around his bedroom. He had been relieved to get away from Ohio, away from his parents who wanted to prod at the gaping wound in the hopes of somehow healing it. There was nothing they were going to be able to do, and Tim didn't want to deal with it.

He had a few things to do. Sarah had died because he hadn't been around to see how bad things were. The least he could do was make sure that the case that had taken him away from his sister was actually solved. What was the point in having lost all that time if he didn't get that much done?

Jethro nudged him and Tim got himself moving, even though there was a large part of him that wanted to huddle beneath the covers and never come out again. He didn't like that feeling and refused to acknowledge it.

He took Jethro out for a short run, fed him and then got ready for work. He wasn't sure if anyone was expecting him to be at NCIS today, but he would be there and he would work. He had done what he had to do for Sarah and now he was going back to work...but the work he was doing would be for Sarah, too.

Before he left, he opened one of Sarah's notebooks and read the entry.

_I'm not sure if this is the life for me. I'm not used to feeling so unsure about everything. I've always loved literature. I love to write. I think I loved it before Tim did. I don't want to lose that because I'm getting worn down by academics. I may not be as smart as Tim, but I'm smart enough to do well. ...so why am I failing? What does Tim have that I don't? He got through grad school with flying colors, like he does with everything esoteric. What am I doing wrong?_

"You weren't doing anything wrong," Tim said softly.

And then, he went to work.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The elevator doors dinged open. Tony looked up and then down...and then up again.

"McGee! You're back!"

"Yeah, I am. I still work here, Tony," Tim said.

"Well...yeah...but..."

"Things aren't going to get better if I sit around doing nothing. Might as well be working."

"Yeah, I guess."

"I wasn't fired, was I?" Tim asked, no levity in his voice.

"Of course, not! You shouldn't need to ask that."

"I shouldn't need to justify being here," Tim retorted and sat down.

Tony was speechless for a moment, but Tim wasn't done.

"Did you guys figure out what was going on with Tommy Sakota?"

"No. Not yet. I don't know if we will, McGee. It seems to be just a random home invasion that went bad."

"Do you _know_ that? Do you even know if anything was missing or are you just assuming?" Tim asked. "What if there's something going on here that _you_ don't know about?"

"Hey!" Tony said. "You haven't been here for more than a week, McGee! Why are you accusing us of not working when you haven't _been_ here? I didn't know Thomas Sakota as well as you, but he was still a fellow employee. I wouldn't drop the ball."

Tim didn't say anything more. He just stared at his monitor and shook his head. Tony didn't know if that was in agreement or not.

"Tim, are you sure you're ready to come back? You know that you could take more time off if you needed it."

"I don't need time off, Tony. What I need is... I need to see that we find out what happened to Tommy. That's what I need. I don't need sympathy. I don't need time. I need to solve this case."

"Well...I'll help you. It's still an open case, but you've got to know that if we don't make any headway on it...if it doesn't look like it's a security risk, then it's going to be declared cold."

Tim didn't look at Tony, but the expression on his face was anything but accepting of that idea. Tony was about to press the issue when the elevator dinged again. This time, it was Ziva. Tony was relieved. He looked at her expressively and she furrowed her brow and then widened her eyes when she saw Tim.

"McGee...I did not know you were coming back today. I did not expect to see you for a few more days."

"Well, here I am."

Ziva took in Tony's expression and Tim's tone and nodded.

"Well, it is...good to have you back. I have missed you. It is hard working only with Tony," she said and smiled.

Tim smiled a little bit in response, but that was all.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Catching up on Tommy's murder."

"Oh. I think that, if we do not find anything in a couple of days, Gibbs is going to declare it a cold case. We have so many other things to do and..."

Tony shook his head quickly, willing her not to say anything about it being just a random burglary. She looked at Tony in surprise but stopped talking.

"Perhaps you will see what we have missed. You knew him better."

"There's got to be something," Tim said softly, almost whispering. "There has to be."

Another ding on the elevator and Gibbs came. He looked at Tim sitting at his desk and then he looked at Tony and at Ziva.

"Tim, with me."

"What is it, Boss?"

"With me, Tim," Gibbs said firmly...but almost gently.

Tim nodded and got up. He followed Gibbs to the elevator and the doors closed.

"What is going on?" Ziva asked. "Did _you_ know he was coming back today?"

"No! He came in and practically accused me of not trying to solve the case! I don't know what's going on."

"Do you think Gibbs will make him leave?"

"I don't know that, either. This is...it feels different, doesn't it? There's something going on here that I don't get. I don't know if Gibbs does, but I don't, and I don't like it."

"I do not, either," Ziva said. "Perhaps he is trying to find meaning in what happened to Sarah."

"Do you think he feels guilty?"

"Probably. This is McGee," she said with a sad smile.

"But I don't get why he's so obsessed with Tommy's case."

"It will occupy his mind. I think that, as long as it does not consume him, it would not be a problem."

"Yeah...maybe..." Tony said.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The elevator jolted to a stop.

"What's going on, Tim?" Gibbs asked.

"Why is everyone asking me that? It's a work day. I'm here to work."

"Your parents called me."

Tim's brow furrowed. "Why? I'm not a little kid running away from home. I told them I was coming back, and I am. I'm back to work."

"They're worried about you. Whatever it is you're holding back, Tim, they can tell that it's there."

"Boss...my sister is dead. I...I hate that it's... No one wants to have to say that kind of thing, but it's reality, and I've accepted it's reality. I've accepted that my sister chose to kill herself. Now, I need to get back to work. There's a murder that's still unsolved. I want to solve it."

"By yourself?" Gibbs asked, with some skepticism.

"No! ...but I want to know why Tommy died, why he was killed. Is that so wrong?"

"Will you accept it if I say that the case is cold?"

"When?"

"If there's no progress on it. You've pretty much proven that there's no security leak involved. So if we can't find who killed him, we'll have to move on. _You_ will have to move on."

Tim tapped his molars a few times.

"Are we clear, McGee?"

"Okay."

Gibbs was skeptical that Tim had any intention of giving up.

"Tim..."

"Boss, I've already said that I'm upset about my sister being dead. I'm not pretending that everything is okay. It's not, but it's not going to get better with me sitting around doing nothing."

"Is that the only other option?"

"What other option is there, Boss?"

"You have hobbies."

Tim's eyes shifted away, just for a moment.

"You don't want to write?"

"Not right now."

"Why not?"

"It's personal. I don't feel like writing right now. I feel like working, trying to solve a murder."

"And if you can't?"

"I'm going to solve a murder," Tim said firmly.

Gibbs could see Tim wasn't going to give in. For now, he decided to let it go. He flipped the elevator back on and sent it back to the bullpen. Tim went back to his desk and sat down.

Tim was admitting to being upset about his sister's death but there was something else. Whatever it was, it was worse than just that Sarah had committed suicide...and Tim was plenty upset about that. So this was beyond that. Gibbs was at a loss to know what it was.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim focused on reading the files of what he'd missed. There were no foreign fingerprints in Tommy's house. They had found nothing. Tommy's family had come and looked through the house, but they hadn't been there before and they didn't know if Tommy had acquired other valuable things that might have been taken.

He shook his head as he looked through the details. Tommy was dead. Nothing would bring him back, but they didn't have to ignore how he had been killed simply because they didn't know what was going on. He realized, suddenly, that he hadn't been to the crime scene. He had spent his entire day searching through Tommy's files and his log.

...before getting that phone call...

No. He wasn't going to think about his sister. He had given her the time she deserved and now, he was going to do the job he couldn't before. He was going to make that sacrifice worth something.

"Boss, I want to go to the crime scene," Tim said.

"Why?"

"I haven't been there. I haven't seen it myself. I need to. I can't understand it without seeing it."

Gibbs stared at him for a few seconds and then nodded.

"All right. Let's go."

Tim wanted to say that he could go by himself, but he knew that wasn't going to happen, not at a crime scene.

"Okay."

They headed out, leaving Tony and Ziva staring worriedly after them.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Sam?" Naomi said, her voice shaking.

"What is it?"

"A letter. From Sarah."

Sam wheeled quickly into the living room.

"From Sarah?"

Naomi was sitting on the couch, holding an envelope in her hands. She nodded.

"Either it's from Sarah or someone out there has a _really_ sick idea of a joke."

He joined her. Without speaking, she handed the envelope to him. Her hands were shaking a little but her eyes were dry for the moment.

"Open it."

Sam nodded. He wasn't sure he wanted to see what Sarah had to say any more than Naomi did, but they couldn't _not_ open it. He took a breath and slid his finger under the flap.

There was only a single page inside and there wasn't much on it. Still, it was Sarah's handwriting.

"Read it, Sam," Naomi said.

"'Dear Mom and Dad,'" Sam began. "'You won't understand why I decided that this was the way to go. It wasn't because of you, Dad. I promise. Sometimes, there's just no other option. You had other options. I don't. I can't do what I've planned to do my whole life. It's a failure on my part. I see Tim and he has ability and success in spades. All I have is failure. Nothing else could have made me happy and I can't write. I can't be anything like I should be. I love you both so much. I love my family so much. I know this will hurt but it's the best thing for everyone. Good-bye. Sarah.'"

Naomi started to sob. The first time she had done so since hearing the news. Sam pulled himself onto the couch and hugged her tightly. He was crying, too. To see for themselves exactly what had been going through Sarah's mind...and to see that, no matter what they had told her, she had only been able to see her failures.

Nothing could make this better right now. All they could do was be together and find what comfort they could in the presence of each other.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim went home a pack of mail in his hands. He hadn't sorted through it at all yet, but he was ready to do that. Tommy's house wasn't as illuminating as he'd hoped it would be, but it was good for him to see it himself and getting back to work had given him some equilibrium that he'd been missing. It was a relief. By the time he left work, he almost felt like he could smile.

He took Jethro out and then sat down to go through his mail.

There were sympathy notes. He didn't feel like reading those; so he set them aside. Then, he came to another letter.

From his sister. The rest of the mail fell to the floor as he stared at the envelope. He felt his stomach tightening and whatever good feeling he'd developed that day was gone.

He stared at the envelope with his sister's careful printing of his address. Thoughts swirled in his brain that he quickly suppressed.

No.

He tore the envelope in half. Then, he took the halves and tore them again.

And again.

He kicked the shredded envelope under his bed, picked up his mail, found the sympathy notes and threw them in the garbage.

As far as he was concerned, this was all over and he would do whatever he could not to think about it again.

He needed to solve Tommy Sakota's murder. That's what he needed to do, but he knew that everyone would be watching him. So he packed a bag of stuff, took Jethro to a kennel for a few days and went to NCIS. He could work overnight if he felt the need, shower there and no one would know that he was doing it.

Work. That's what would help. Too much work had torn his life apart and now, it would help him put his life back together...

...with just a few pieces missing.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

_Two days later..._

Tim overslept on Abby's futon and had to shower quickly in order to get changed and hide his stuff before anyone got there...and he wasn't quite fast enough.

"McGee...what are you doing? Moving in?" Tony asked.

Tim looked at the bag in his hand and then at Tony.

"Do you really think that I'd prefer staying here when I have an apartment to sleep in?"

"You're not answering my question, McGee. What's going on?"

"Nothing, Tony. I'm working on Tommy's murder like usual. That's it."

"Tim...we haven't found anything. You know that..."

"Tony, I am not giving up on this."

"What if Gibbs orders you to?"

"Tough. This is a case that needs to be solved. If it's just a robbery, we should be able to solve it! This isn't political intrigue or something involving the CIA. It's a former employee of NCIS being killed in his own home! Whether it was random or personal doesn't matter! This case needs to be solved!"

"McGee!"

Tim whirled around. Gibbs was standing behind him, looking a little ticked off. Tim met his gaze defiantly.

"My office, Tim," he said.

"Boss!"

"The elevator," Gibbs said.

Tim took a breath and walked over. Gibbs followed him. They got on, and Tim knew what was coming.

"What is going on, Tim?" Gibbs asked. "I told you before that when I say it's cold, it's cold."

"It's not cold," Tim said. "This case needs to be finished, Boss! We can't just leave it undone!"

"We have to sometimes."

"I can't, Boss! I can't let this not be solved."

"Why?" Gibbs asked. "Why can't _you_ let this go?"

"It's important."

"Why?"

"It's getting justice for someone who used to work here!" Tim said, but he knew he was lying. That wasn't why this was important to him...but he wasn't about to tell that to Gibbs who would take it in the wrong way. "Please, Boss...let me work on this, just a little longer." A plaintive note was in his voice and Tim didn't like that, either.

Gibbs looked at him for a few seconds.

"Please?"

"Two days. That's all I'll give you. Vance wants this solved, but even he knows that this isn't working out."

Two days. That wasn't enough. Tim didn't want to be confined to two more days because, truth be told, he hadn't found _anything_ to help him solve the case. It was like there was a roadblock up in front of his face, keeping him from seeing what there was to find. If someone had been actively _trying_ to keep him from finding Tommy's killer, they couldn't have done a better job. But he could see that Gibbs wouldn't give him more than the two days he'd said.

"You hear me, Tim?"

"Yeah. I hear you. Two days."

"No leeway on this. If you don't find anything, that's it. I'm not giving you more than that."

Tim nodded silently.

"I mean it, Tim."

"You're clear, Boss."

"How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," Tim said. He was _not_ going to discuss that.

"Are you sure?"

"My sister is dead. I'm not going to be great, but I'm fine. I just want to be working. Why is that a problem?" Tim demanded...and then took a breath and swallowed. He suddenly remembered another time when he'd talked to Gibbs about his sister in this elevator. He'd saved her that time.

Gibbs just stared at him. He seemed almost disappointed, but he turned around and flicked the elevator back on. They went back to the bullpen and Tim threw himself back into work.

"Boss?" Tony asked.

"What, Tony?"

"I need to talk to you."

Tim had a nasty suspicion that Tony was going to tell Gibbs that he was worried. Still, Gibbs had given him two days and he wasn't going to let Gibbs take that back.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs didn't go back to the elevator for this conversation. He could see that Tony was worried about Tim, and he probably had a reason to be. There was an edge of desperation to Tim's desire to keep working on the case, but if this was related to Sarah's suicide, Gibbs didn't know what the relation was. He led Tony into the hall.

"What is it?"

"I think that McGee is sleeping here. He has a bag that he hid under the desk, and when I came in, he was just coming up from Abby's lab."

That was a surprise. He hadn't realized. Tim had left NCIS every night. He was sure of it. So if Tony was right, then, Tim was coming back after leaving.

"Boss, I'm worried about him. I don't like the way he's been...acting. ...and it's not because he's been kind of rude..but he has been. It's because...really, I'm surprised he's back already. He doesn't seem ready, but he's not going to let anyone tell him that. Ziva's tried talking to him. Abby has. I have. He's not listening, Boss. I mean...his sister died! She killed herself, but he's not even willing to acknowledge it at this point. ...and he hasn't said her name since he came back."

"He hasn't?"

"Not that I've noticed. He just says 'my sister'. Never _Sarah_."

Gibbs nodded.

"I gave him two more days to work on this case. I don't think he's going to find anything and then we'll have to move on."

"Will he?"

"Yes. There's no other option." Gibbs walked back to the bullpen. "McGee?"

Tim lifted his head. "Yeah, Boss?"

"You had better not be spending the night here anymore."

Tim's jaw tightened and his eyes flicked to Tony and then back to Gibbs.

"Clear?"

"Clear, Boss."

"Good."

Gibbs left the bullpen. He wanted to force Tim to talk about what was going on, but he could see that Tim wasn't going to say anything. If even Abby couldn't get him to talk, Tim wasn't going to say a word. Well, he couldn't force Tim to accept sympathy or help. Not yet. For now, he needed to talk to Vance. While Tim had most of his attention right now, he hadn't forgotten how buried Vance had seemed the last time they had talked.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Thanks a lot, Tony," Tim said.

"You're welcome," Tony said, refusing to give in to Tim's obvious irritation.

"What is your problem?" Tim asked.

"I might ask you the same thing, but I think I know."

"Oh, really?" Tim asked. "What's that?"

"Sarah."

The expression Tim turned on him would have killed him if looks had that power. Tim got to his feet and stalked out of the bullpen without answering. Tony sighed and looked after him. He had hesitated about going to Gibbs, but he decided that trying to help Tim was better than covering for him.

The elevator dinged and Ziva got off.

"Where is McGee?" she asked, looking around.

"Fuming...that way," Tony said, pointing the direction Tim had gone.

"Why?"

"Well, Gibbs gave him two more days to work on the Sakota case and I told Gibbs he's been sleeping here."

"He has?"

"Yeah. Has a bag under his desk."

"Oh. I do not like this, Tony."

"I don't, either. I just don't know what to do about it."

"Nor do I. The strange thing is that he is perfectly willing to say that he regrets Sarah's death...which makes me think that this is not the cause."

"It's got to be something with Sarah."

"Yes, but what?"

"I don't know. I just don't get why he's trying to hide it."

"He is succeeding, not just trying."

"Yeah. I know."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim sat down in the stairwell. He wouldn't stay here for long. There was work to do if he was going to figure out who had killed Tommy in the next couple of days. Still, he was so irritated. He had known that people would make assumptions if they found out he was sleeping here. It wasn't really an obsession with the case. Oh, he wanted Tommy's murder to be solved, but it wasn't the case itself. He just wanted to get some kind of results from all this effort. Why couldn't they see that? Why did everyone want to focus on what had happened? All he wanted was to set it aside. It was over and nothing could change it.

With one more deep breath, he got to his feet and headed back to the bullpen. When he got there, Tony and Ziva looked at him worriedly. He wished they would see that if they just let things be normal, everyone would be better off...mostly him.

He started focusing on the case, the evidence that could perhaps lead to finding who had killed Tommy Sakota.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Go home, Tim," Gibbs said.

Tim looked up and then out the windows. It was dark. Where had the day gone? He felt like he'd made no headway at all...and now, Gibbs was telling him to leave?

"Boss, I..."

"Home. And don't come back until tomorrow morning...at the normal time. No working around this, McGee. Don't even try."

"You've kept us here all night before, Boss," Tim said.

"And this time, I'm telling you to go home. So go. Now."

Tim could see that Gibbs wasn't going to let him delay at all. He shut down his computer and left.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_Can't you find me, Tim?" Sarah called teasingly. "I'm right here!"_

_Tim ran around, frantically following the trail of blood, trying to figure out where Sarah had gone. He could hear her laughing. She never could hide very well when they played hide-and-seek._

"_Come on, Tim! Where am I?"_

_He opened the door and saw only a blank wall. He could hear Sarah laughing at him. He ran around in a field. There were bushes, trees and doors everywhere. Sarah seemed to be in every direction._

"_You're too late, Tim! Too late!" Sarah shouted, tauntingly._

_Tim ran toward the voice..._

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim sat up and took deep breaths. He looked at his clock. Four a.m. He sighed and rubbed his hands over his head. It was bad enough that people kept trying to talk about his sister while he was awake, did his mind have to reproduce her in his dreams, too? It wasn't fair. He hated it. He slid out of bed and pulled one of his sister's notebooks from the pile. He turned on a lamp and started to read.

_When do we stop dreaming and touch reality? Or is it more that we need to __start__ dreaming and thereby touch reality? Does reality have to be what we see in the waking world or can we make what we dream what is real? But if that's reality, then, how do we describe our nightmares? Can we make __them__ reality as well? I used to have nightmares when I was little, dreams of monsters under my bed, in my closet. I would wake up and call out for someone to come and save me. Someone always came._

_And then, one day, the nightmare __was__ real. I called for help and someone came...only he died in his desire to help. A man died trying to save me from a real-life nightmare. That's the nightmare I wish I could banish. It still comes. It still haunts me, and I can't wake up and ask Tim to save me from the nightmare this time. He can't because it's not a nightmare._

_It's real._

Tim closed the notebook and set it aside. He leaned his head back against the mattress and closed his eyes. If only there was some way to escape all this turmoil in his head. If only there was a way to get rid of it.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Two days later..._

"That's it, Tim," Gibbs said. "You got your two days. You've made no progress. That's it. The case is cold."

"No!" Tim said.

Gibbs just raised an eyebrow. Tim looked around. Tony and Ziva were staring at him...along with most of the rest of the bullpen.

"It's done, McGee," Gibbs said, his voice soft, but brooking no disagreement.

Tim subsided, but not because he was giving up. He'd go over Gibbs' head. Surely, Vance would listen to him. Vance had always been more sympathetic. Tim couldn't explain it in words, but the thought of having to give up on solving Tommy's murder made his stomach tie in knots.

"Fine," he muttered. "It's done."

"Finished, McGee," Gibbs said.

Tim nodded. "Right."

He could see that Gibbs was skeptical, but he said nothing. He waited until he was alone in the bullpen. Then, he ran up to Vance's office. He was lucky enough to get in. Pamela called in and Vance had a couple of minutes. Tim stepped inside.

"Agent McGee, I haven't had the chance to talk to you at all since your sister died. I'm sorry about that."

Tim swallowed and nodded. "Thank you."

"What can I do for you?"

"I want to keep working on the Sakota case," Tim said, trying to keep himself sounding reasonable. Vance probably didn't know about all that had happened and he wasn't going to lose control.

"The Sakota case? Agent Gibbs already told me that he was declaring it cold."

"It's not cold," Tim said.

"Have you made any discoveries in the last couple of days?" Vance asked, his expression slightly confused. "I hadn't heard."

"No, but that doesn't mean that it's a cold case."

"Actually, Agent McGee, that's the definition of a cold case. You were able to determine that there was no connection to Sakota's work at NCIS, but there has been no headway made on who killed him. Didn't Gibbs tell you already?"

"Yes, but I think he's wrong," Tim said.

"I'm sorry, Agent McGee. I disagree. He explained everything to me and there's no reason to keep looking. If something comes up, that's a different story, but as it is..."

"You're saying no," Tim said.

"That's correct. The case is cold and we're not going to be solving it right now."

It felt like someone had just stabbed him in the gut. It was almost a physical pain. Tim couldn't believe what he was hearing. He couldn't tolerate it, and he wouldn't.

"I'm sorry, Director Vance."

"For what?"

Tim took a breath and pulled out his badge and gun.

"I can't work here anymore. I quit."

Vance stood up.

"What?"

Tim set them on Vance's desk. "I quit."

Then, he turned around and walked out. He heard Vance coming behind him, and he sped up.

"Agent McGee!"

He didn't turn around. He no longer worked for NCIS. He was not bound to respond. He hurried down the stairs, picked up his bag, and ignored Tony who had just arrived.

"McGee, what's–?"

"Agent McGee!" Vance called after him.

Tim ignored them all, got on the elevator and left the building. He got into his car and drove away.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

_One day later..._

It was evening, and there were a number of people talking together...not about a case.

"I went to his apartment this morning," Ziva said. "He was not there. His car was not there."

"I called the kennel that Tim has used for Jethro before, and Jethro is there. He's _been_ there for about a week," Abby said, biting her lip.

"I tried to ask him what he was doing," Tony said. "But he didn't say anything. He didn't even answer Vance. He just left. If I had known what was going on..."

"Did Director Vance have any explanation?" Ducky asked.

"Tim had been asking for permission to keep working on the Sakota case," Gibbs said. "When Vance said no, Tim quit."

"Just like that?" Ducky asked.

"Apparently. Vance said he didn't have any idea that it was coming. It was out of nowhere."

"Are you going to issue a BOLO, Gibbs?" Ziva asked.

Gibbs thought about it. He was worried, yes, but for all they knew, Tim could have gone back to Ohio.

"Not yet. We'll give him another day. Keep calling him. He may call one of us back. I'll call his parents in the morning, ask them if they know anything."

Reluctantly, everyone nodded and headed home. It was hard to accept that they might just need to allow Tim some time alone. He hadn't been acting irrational, just obtuse.

Ducky remained behind.

"Jethro, what happened?" he asked.

"I wish I knew, Duck. I don't. He came back to work too soon, but I allowed it because, for some people, it's good to get back into a routine. It helps them function, get through it. Maybe I shouldn't have...but I didn't see any reason to force him to take a break."

"Hindsight is always clearer than our vision in the present," Ducky said. "I haven't yet called him. I'll do so tonight. ...and I will pray that he just wanted some time alone."

"I don't think that's it."

"I don't, either," Ducky confessed, "but I will continue to hope for it."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim sat in his car and stared out the windshield. He didn't know _exactly_ where he was, but he wasn't far enough away from DC that he couldn't find his way back. He'd _have_ to go back. He'd been wearing these clothes for going on two days and he was starting to feel grimy. There was also the fact that he'd wasted a lot of money on gas...just driving around. He knew that they'd all be looking for him, worrying about him, but he didn't want to talk and get people asking him to talk about the things he wanted to avoid. If he timed it right, he could get to his apartment, clean himself up, go and get Jethro and then go...somewhere. Anywhere that he could be alone.

Now, however, he was ready to sleep in his car again. He reclined the seat as far as it could go and let himself drift off to sleep.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_You can't save me, Tim. You never could."_

_She was sitting right beside him. He couldn't bring himself to look at her._

"_I'm right here and you can't save me. Look at the blood, Tim! Look at it!"_

_Tim was frozen in place. He could feel her beside him, could even feel that blood flowing over him, but he couldn't move his head, couldn't turn to look at her._

"_I'm dead and you can't save me. You can't save me from my nightmare, Tim! My own brother can't–"_

There was a pounding and Tim came awake with a start, completely disoriented. He turned toward the passenger seat first. It was empty. There was no blood there. He didn't know where he was or what the sound was.

...and then, there was a beam of light in his eyes. He squinted and the light lowered slightly. He saw a hand gesture for him to roll down his window...and he saw the flash of a badge.

Police.

He quickly did as he was told.

"What are you doing out here, sir?"

"I drove too far and I was ready to fall asleep," Tim said honestly enough. "I figured it would be better to get a couple of hours here than risk falling asleep at the wheel."

"Where are you headed?"

"Silver Spring. It's where I live."

"Where are you coming from?"

"I kind of...went on a mini road trip. I didn't really stop anywhere, but I thought I could get back without stopping at all. I was wrong." That was a lie. He'd had no intention of getting back to Silver Spring tonight.

"Do you think that you could make it back now? You're only about an hour away."

Of course, he could. Now that he'd been awakened, he didn't think that he'd be going back to sleep anytime soon...but he didn't want to go back at all.

"What time is it?" Tim asked, staving off the necessity of answering.

"About two a.m."

"Wow."

"Can you make it?"

"Yeah. I can make it. I'm awake now," Tim said.

The police officer smiled. "You know, even a spontaneous trip could stand to have a _little_ bit of planning."

Tim smiled wanly. "You're right."

His sister had planned _her_...trip. She had planned it out perfectly. Everything had worked out like she had planned.

"Thanks," he said and leaned over to start his car.

The police officer stood back and let him go. Tim gave a little wave, but he was dreading going back. Still, it would three in the morning by the time he got back if the cop was right. No one would be at his apartment at this time of the night. He'd have to wait to get Jethro, but that was all right. He could drive around DC for a while. It's not like they'd be likely to pick him out on the road.

Decision made, he started to drive. It took him about ten minutes to get his bearings, but then, he headed back to DC.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

When he got back to his apartment, he was feeling tired. Maybe he should get a bit more sleep before heading out...but would he have another of those nightmares? Whether he would or not, it didn't matter. He needed sleep. He set his alarm for five a.m. That would give him the time to shower quickly and pack up a few things.

He fell onto his bed and was asleep in seconds.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Sarah danced around him, blood making tracks down her arms. She laughed at him as he tried to reach her, tried to stop her. Each time he got close, she would flick blood at his face and then move further away from him._

"_Stop! Stop!" he cried out._

"_Come and get me, Tim! Try to save me!"_

_Tim tried. He really did, but she was always out of reach._

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

There was a knock on the door. It brought him out of sleep with a start. He looked at his alarm clock. It was after five. Why hadn't it gone off? He checked and then groaned when he realized that he had set his alarm for five P.M., not five A.M.

The knocking resumed. Who would it be at this time of the morning, though? Who would have decided to come over here just to see if he was around? Whoever it was, Tim was pretty sure he didn't want to talk to him. Still, as the knocking continued, he noticed how polite and persistent it was. Whoever it was...actually, he figured he knew who it was. Most of the people he knew wouldn't be so polite. They would be pounding or else breaking in.

He walked to the door and opened it.

"Hi, Ducky."

"Good morning, lad," Ducky said.

"What are you doing here?"

"I had a thought that you were actively trying to avoid us all and that if I wanted to catch you here, I would need to find you at an unusual hour. Were you sleeping?"

"Yes, but I had planned on getting up right now anyway."

Tim turned and walked away from the door, letting Ducky choose whether or not he came inside.

The footsteps behind him told him what Ducky had chosen.

"What are you doing here?" Tim asked.

"We are all very worried about you, Timothy."

"Why?"

"You quit your job and then disappeared. All this happened shortly after a tragic event."

"I don't want to talk about it, Ducky. I need to shower and pack."

"Where are you going?"

"I don't know. Anywhere I want to."

"Why?"

"To get away."

"From whom? Or from what?"

"Everything."

"So you're not going to be with your family?"

"No."

"Your parents are extremely worried."

"There's no need. I won't do what my sister did," Tim said. He wouldn't face Ducky. "I'm going to shower. If you want to talk to me, you'll have to wait."

"Very well."

Tim hoped that Ducky would be gone when he got out, but he figured that Ducky had determined that he would stay. He thought about taking a long time in the shower, but that might bring others here and he had no interest in that occurring. So he hurried through his morning ablutions, got dressed and came back out. Ducky was sitting calmly on his bed.

"I have nothing to say, Ducky. I've quit."

"Yes, and I'd like to know why."

"Clearly, because I felt it was the right thing to do."

"Really," Ducky said with some skepticism. "Somehow, I find that doubtful."

"Feel free. I don't care what you think," Tim said and started packing his bag.

"What happened when your father attempted suicide, Timothy?"

Tim's hand spasmed and he dropped the shirt he'd been pulling out of the dresser.

"What does that matter, Ducky? And thank you for bringing up a painful memory like that. I really appreciate it," he said with as much sarcasm as he could muster.

"It matters because you saved your father but you could not save your sister from the same fate."

"No, I couldn't. Doesn't matter. It's all over now," Tim said, willing Ducky to leave him alone.

"It may have happened in the past, Timothy, but it's _not_ over. One only has to look in your eyes to see how much it is _not_ over. What happened when your father attempted suicide? I only know that you happened to come upon him as he was preparing himself."

"Ducky, it doesn't matter what happened then!" Tim said. "It doesn't matter what happened when my sister killed herself! They're both memories I don't want to have. As far as I'm concerned, it's over. Just leave me alone!"

"I'm sorry. I can't do that."

"Why not?" Tim said, raising his voice almost to a shout. "Why are you trying to force me to think about these things?"

Ducky got to his feet and walked to Tim.

"Because, Timothy, I am afraid for you."

"Why? I would _never_ do what my sister did. I would _never_ do that."

"Are you sure?" Ducky asked.

"Yes! I'm the one who's seen what comes of it. I've _felt_ it! My sister didn't. She wasn't there. All she knew was that Dad had done something. ...but she saw how it affected _me_."

"You're angry."

"Only that you're trying to make me talk about these things."

"No, Timothy. You may indeed be unhappy about that, but your anger is really not toward me."

"I don't have to stay here and listen to this, Ducky. And I'm not going to stick around here long enough for anyone else to show up here uninvited. I'm not interested," Tim said.

"I don't blame you, but I'm simply not going to let you disappear, Timothy. If you'd like to avoid anyone else besides myself, I'm quite all right with tagging along wherever you'd like to go."

"I don't want you to come with me," Tim said in frustration.

"I'm afraid that I will either come with you or I will follow you."

"Why?"

"I told you already. I'm afraid for you, Timothy, and I'm not going to stand aside when I fear that you might come to some harm...whether intentionally or otherwise."

Tim could feel his stomach tying up in knots. The desire to get away was stronger than ever.

"It's your choice, Timothy. Which will it be? Will you allow me to come along or will you have me follow after you?"

"Fine. Come on," Tim said. "But I'm leaving right now."

"That's quite all right with me."

Tim grabbed his bag and stalked out of his room and out of his apartment, Ducky right on his heels. They got into Tim's car. Tim drove, but he could feel Ducky's on him. He couldn't just drive like he had before, not with Ducky there. So he headed north and west, along the Clara Barton Parkway until he found a place to pull off.

"Say what you have to say, Ducky," Tim said. "Then, I'll take you back."

"I'm afraid it won't be so simple, Timothy," Ducky said.

"Why not?"

"Because, while I know it's the last thing _you_ want, it's not what _I_ need to say, it's what _you_ need to say."

"I don't need to say anything. I just need to get away."

Ducky put a hand on his shoulder.

"If you really believe that, Timothy, then you wouldn't _need_ to get away. You're running from yourself. Can you really deny that?"

Tim looked at Ducky and willed himself to lie. He even opened his mouth to deny it.

...but he found that he couldn't. He just turned back and looked out the windshield without speaking.

"Precisely," Ducky said.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Tim's hands gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. Ducky watched him, and he could see that there was something Tim was holding back. He was suppressing it with every fiber of his being, but it was eating away at him from the inside. Maybe Tim couldn't see the coming destruction, but it was there and Ducky had no intention of letting it come to pass.

"Timothy, please."

"No."

"You have no reason to try to hide whatever it is you don't wish to share."

"It's none of your business."

"Perhaps not. But I am trying to help, even if you don't want to believe it."

"You're not helping."

Ducky smiled. Tim was staring at the dashboard, grinding out each word. Unless he missed his guess, Ducky thought that Tim would say _something_ soon. It might not be the most important, in fact, it probably _wouldn't_ be, but it would be _something_.

"I think I am, but I can understand if you don't think so. Timothy, why did you quit? There was no need to do that."

"Yes, there was."

"Why?"

"Because I..."

"Why?" Ducky asked again. He was so close to revealing something.

"I couldn't solve the case."

"That's happened before."

"Not like this."

"What made the difference?"

"I gave all my time to it."

"Yes. You did all that was asked and more."

"And it wasn't enough. I did all that...and I still failed."

"No, Timothy," Ducky said. "Sometimes, cases don't get solved. It's no failure."

"Yes, it is!" Tim said, angrily. "It is."

"Why?"

There was a muscle working in Tim's cheek and he swallowed more than once.

"Timothy, how could this possibly be a failure?"

"Because!" Tim burst out and then stopped.

Ducky waited, knowing Tim would keep going eventually. He wasn't disappointed.

"Because I did all that and my sister killed herself and I still couldn't solve the case! My sister committed suicide and...and it still wasn't enough. I neglected her. I left her alone and it still wasn't enough!"

That wasn't everything, which surprised Ducky...because he had half-suspected this from Tim...but that wasn't the real source of Tim's pain and desire to hide himself away. Still, it was a beginning.

"Timothy, that's not true."

"It is true," Tim said. "I didn't even know she was seeing a therapist. I didn't know that she was depressed. I didn't know because I wasn't there for her! She's my baby sister and I was supposed to watch out for her. I didn't do that...because I was too busy doing my job. Getting pulled here and there and everywhere when _family_ is supposed to be the most important. I put it last."

"You gave the time you could."

"No, I didn't. I gave all my time to my job, trying to do too much just because it was asked of me. I didn't bother doing anything else."

"And you feel guilty for that?"

"Yes!"

Something about the way he said it made Ducky wonder.

"Timothy, is there something more?"

"No!"

Tim suddenly got out of the car and started walking into the trees. Ducky was surprised at the change. He opened the door and got out, hurrying after.

"Timothy, wait."

Tim stopped but he didn't turn around.

"Timothy, you have no reason to feel guilty. It was a difficult situation. You were harried and so were many others. It's not something to blame on anyone, including yourself."

Tim didn't say anything. Ducky waited for a few seconds, but Tim didn't speak. He didn't turn around either. He just stood by himself, apparently determined to remain isolated.

"Timothy, everyone knows that you love your sister and..."

"I don't," Tim whispered.

"What?"

"I don't love my sister. I hate her. I can't think of anyone I've hated more than I hate her," Tim said, his voice low.

"Why?"

That was it. That was the important question. This was the important moment. Tim suddenly turned around, looking pained beyond measure.

"I hate my sister!" he shouted. "Okay? I hate her! Everyone keeps telling me that it must be so hard because of how close we were! It's not true! It's all a huge lie! She said that she loved me but it was all a lie!"

Ducky was surprised at Tim's anger. He didn't say anything. He just stared, thinking that Tim would say more if he waited.

"If she had loved me, she wouldn't have killed herself! If she had cared at all, she would have told me what she was thinking! ...and I hate her."

Tim spun back around, but not before Ducky had seen the first sign of tears in Tim's eyes.

"Timothy..."

"You can't make _that_ go away, Ducky. I hate her...just like I hated my dad when he was...only he didn't die. She did. ...and they both should have known."

"What should they have known, Timothy?" Ducky asked gently. Now that Tim was finally saying what he'd _not_ been saying before, he wanted Tim to get all of it out at once.

"How much it would hurt me! ...but they didn't. They didn't think about that. They didn't think that it might be hard for...they didn't."

"People who are suicidal often _can't_ think of anyone but themselves, Timothy," Ducky said.

"She never said anything to me! Never! I would have...I know I would have, but..."

"Timothy, you just couldn't have the same situation as with your father. It was unlikely that you would have happened upon her after..."

"I didn't."

"Didn't what?"

"I knew."

"What do you mean, Timothy?" Ducky asked.

"My dad. It wasn't luck."

"Tell me."

"Why? It happened a long time ago. Doesn't matter now."

Ducky could hear Tim trying to regain control and stop sharing how he felt. If allowed, he would clam up, having only told part of the story, and Ducky didn't want to have him stop halfway through.

"What happened, Timothy? You said it wasn't luck that you found your father."

"I don't...want to...talk about it anymore, Ducky."

"I know, but you need to."

Tim turned away again, and this time, Ducky walked over and put his hand on Tim's shoulder, squeezing it gently.

"Tell me, Timothy."

"Dad had...planned it all out in advance...even down to...writing a suicide note, explaining why this was the best option," Tim said softly. "I found it. I found it but I didn't believe that he would really do it. Dad had been telling me over and over again that it wasn't my fault, that it would all be okay...and all that time he had _lied_. It wasn't okay. It _was_ my fault." The tears almost fell again, but Tim held them back. "I left it where it was, thinking that it couldn't be real because Dad wouldn't have lied to me. ...but the next day...after Mom left for work and my sister and I went to school...I thought I'd go back just in case. I pretended to have forgotten something and sent her on ahead while I ran home. I came inside and went into Mom and Dad's room."

"And?"

"And Dad just stared at me. He had all of his pills out and he was getting ready to take them. And I knew right then that Dad had lied and that he didn't care. I didn't say any of that. I just stared at him. If he had really cared...but he didn't. He only cared about himself and I was so...so _mad_ at him. I wouldn't talk to him for weeks after that."

"He didn't try after he saw you?" Ducky asked.

"No, he didn't. He told me later that he couldn't have after he saw the look in my eyes. Because he had..._betrayed_ me. He had _lied_."

"And Sarah?"

"She lied, too! And she died and there was no reason to! She kept saying that she couldn't be as good as me, but it was wrong! She was wrong! There was no reason for her to feel that way. I never told her that and Mom and Dad never pushed her to do anything but what would make her happy!"

"Sometimes, it doesn't matter what other people say. It only matters what one thinks."

"I don't care!" Tim said, angry again. "I don't care what excuse there was. I don't care what she was going to tell me! She sent me a letter and I ripped it up. I don't want to know what excuse she had for what she did. I don't care!"

"Yes, you do, Timothy," Ducky said.

"No!"

"Yes, and it's time for you admit it. If you didn't care about Sarah, you wouldn't be so angry about her decision."

"I don't care!"

"Yes, you do. Timothy, if you do not face what your sister chose to do and your own feelings about it...you are headed down a path that could lead to your parents mourning the loss of their only surviving child. Is that what you want?"

"I would _never_ do what she did!" Tim said loudly. "Never!"

"Not willingly and not in your right mind, but Timothy, think about what you've done already! You quit the job you love and are declaring that you hate the sister for whom you have been willing to give up everything. That is not the behavior of someone who is in his right mind. What are you going to do? Not just right now, but in the future? What will you do? You can't hide forever and if you try, you _will_ destroy yourself."

Tim tried to pull away, but he didn't try very hard and Ducky easily held him back.

"Timothy, what you feel is understandable. You feel hurt and betrayed by someone you loved. You also feel that you should have been able to save her. You couldn't."

Tim took a deep breath but that was all.

"Please, Timothy, just let it out now. I will not be disgusted. I understand as much as it is possible for someone who has not felt it to understand. I do not blame you for feeling as you do."

"I don't..." Tim took a couple of deep gulping breaths. "She felt abandoned, Ducky. ...and I only paid attention to her until she was buried. I don't want to cry for her. She doesn't deserve it. She deserves to be forgotten. I don't want to give her anything else of me."

"Because you feel that she betrayed you."

"She didn't tell me!" Tim said. "She had all that time to tell me and she never did! Never!"

"She didn't want to, Timothy. If she had wanted you to know, she would have done so."

"That's why I'm not going...to cry for her."

Ducky walked around so that he was facing Tim directly, although Tim was much taller.

"If you don't want to cry for Sarah, maybe you should allow the tears that you wish to cry for yourself," he suggested. "You have lost much, Timothy. Allow yourself to grieve, if only for that loss."

Tim closed his eyes and shook his head.

"Yes, lad. It is all right to cry."

Tim's lower lip was shaking as he continued to shake his head.

"Let it out," Ducky said, keeping his voice low and soothing. There would be no hint of censure or frustration. Just acceptance.

The first tears fell silently, but Tim's shoulders started shaking and he covered his face with his hands.

"That's right, lad," Ducky said.

"I...h-h-hate her, Ducky," Tim gasped out through his tears.

"That's all right," he said, although he thought that Tim was wrong. While he definitely felt anger, it wasn't driven by hatred.

Ducky put his arm around Tim and led him back to the car, but instead of having Tim get behind the wheel, he led him to the passenger side and helped him sit. Then, he hurried around to the driver's side and got in. Tim was still crying, not loudly, but persistently. Ducky looked at the clock. Not much after six in the morning. If he left now, Ducky figured could get them to his place before the traffic was too bad.

"I'm taking you to my home, Timothy," he said softly.

Tim didn't reply. Ducky took that as an agreement. He started the car and drove away from the small clearing.

The drive to Georgetown was relatively brief, thank goodness, but by the time they arrived, Tim had stopped crying and was sitting listlessly in his seat. He didn't bother protesting when Ducky stopped the car in front of his house. When Ducky turned the car off, he just got out and let Ducky lead him inside.

"Come, lad. I think you need to take some more time to sleep. I'd wager that you need it."

"I don't...I keep dreaming of her," Tim said softly. "She's always teasing me while she dies."

The sorrow in Tim's voice pulled at Ducky's heart.

"Then, why not just lie down for a little while," Ducky said.

Tim seemed unable to disagree. He followed Ducky into the spare room, lay down and stared at the ceiling.

"I wanted it to be a mistake," Tim said very softly. "I didn't want to hate her." Another tear fell.

There was nothing to say to that. Ducky withdrew. He wanted to make a quick call, letting the others know that Tim had been found and was at least safe...if not sound.


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Gibbs was into NCIS early, but he had awakened early and hadn't seen any reason to stick around at home. Everyone had been calling Tim, trying to get some sign of where he was. Tim's parents didn't know where he was and they were worried as well. If no one had been able to find him by the evening, he would issue a BOLO.

His phone rang.

"Gibbs."

"_Jethro, it's Ducky."_

"Yeah?"

"_Timothy is at my house."_

Gibbs straightened.

"What? Since when?"

"_Well, he's only been _here_ for about five minutes. I went to his apartment very early this morning in the hopes of finding him there, and he was...although he was on his way out, running away, I believe. We have...talked, and he has... He's not in a very good space right now."_

"But he's there? With you?"

"_Yes. I'd like to stay with him for now. I got him to talk, but I didn't like the look in his eyes."_

"Did he tell you what the problem was?"

"_Anger, Jethro. And although he didn't say this explicitly, it's anger along with a hefty dose of guilt both for feeling the anger in the first place and for not being there to save his sister where he was able to save his father. He feels betrayed by Sarah's suicide. It's an understandable degree of selfishness which is his way of dealing with the pain and grief. Having already been through it with a family member, and in particular because he feels responsible for both of them, I am worried about him."_

"All right. I'll tell Vance."

"_I'm sorry that he chose to quit. It's such a waste."_

Now, Gibbs could smile. "He hasn't quit."

"_What?"_

"You can't just quit a federal job by saying it. You have to fill out a form. If you haven't filled out the form, you haven't quit. He's AWOL right now, but he's still employed."

"_That's something. Will Director Vance be amenable to bringing him back on once this is...solved?"_

"Yes."

Ducky chuckled. _"Good. I'm going to get back to him. Let the others know. I think it will be worthwhile to have them come. Will you call his parents and let them know?"_

"Of course. Thanks, Duck."

"_I just want to help him, Jethro. That's all."_

"You have. Just by stopping him from running."

"_I hope so. I'd better get back to him."_

"All right." Gibbs hung up and let out a sigh of relief. Even if Tim wasn't in the best mental state right now, they knew where he was and Ducky was probably the best person to be with him. He decided to call the McGees first and let them know that their son had been found. They deserved that. Quickly, he dialed their number, a little chagrined that he now had it memorized.

"_McGees."_

"Hi, Naomi. It's Agent Gibbs."

"_Tim?"_ she asked, wasting no time.

"Ducky found him, and Tim is staying with him for now."

"_How is he?"_

"I haven't seen him, but Ducky said that he's been having trouble."

"_With Sarah's suicide."_ It wasn't a question.

"Yeah. Ducky said he's angry."

"_Oh. I should have known. That was his reaction to Sam's...attempt. I thought that he'd got through that kind of feeling...but that was probably a dumb idea. We just never...thought it would...come up again. With this being...the case, maybe it would be best if we stayed away for a few days. The last thing we would want is to cause Tim more pain by reminding him of the past."_

"I don't know. To be honest, I don't know what will be best."

"_Let Tim know that we'll come, but only when he's ready."_

"Okay."

"_Thank you, Agent Gibbs. You've all done so much for Tim. If we had to..."_ Naomi stopped speaking for a few seconds. _"Thank you for being there for him."_

"We won't leave him alone."

"_Thank you,"_ she said again.

Gibbs said good-bye and hung up. Then, he waited for the others to arrive. They needed to know that Tim had been found but still needed some help. If that was all there was, he'd accept it because the alternative was much worse.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky walked back to the spare room. Tim was lying on the bed, but he was awake, staring at the ceiling.

"Timothy?"

"Yeah?"

Still that dull tone. After letting out all those emotions he'd been suppressing, Tim must be feeling empty.

Ducky walked over and sat at the foot of the bed.

"Would you allow me to tell you something that you may not agree with?"

Tim smiled a little.

"Sure."

"I don't think you hate your sister."

The smile vanished.

"Yes, I do."

"Do you want to know what I think?"

"I have a feeling you're going to tell me anyway."

Ducky smiled. "Yes, I am."

"Go ahead, then."

"Thank you. What I think is that you are very angry about what Sarah did, and with reason. You feel that she should have known just what her decision would do to you. She knew and she ignored it or didn't care about it. ...but you also feel guilt, something that is also understandable."

"What do I have to feel guilty about?" Tim asked, his voice now becoming laced with sarcasm.

"Not saving your sister from her decision as you would naturally feel is your responsibility, and guilt about feeling the anger in the first place. You are struggling between blaming yourself and blaming her with no decision available to be made. What you are left with is the pain that you have been suppressing in the hopes of pretending that it doesn't exist. Only you can't do that because the pain gets worse as your mind dwells on it with no surcease. That leads to more pain and more anguish. More guilt and more anger. All these things that only break you down further. Am I wrong?"

Tim said nothing.

"Timothy, please speak to me."

Tim sat up and looked at Ducky with a directness that was surprising.

"When my sister was deciding what college to go to, she picked Waverley because I was here. When she got accepted, my parents told me that I needed to look out for her. I tried to. We used to hang out a lot...mostly on weekends. I didn't tell anyone at NCIS about her for a while. It was easier. Then, she decided to go to grad school...and things were just so busy...for both of us. ...but we still were able to...and I always tried to be there for her. But I wasn't, not when it mattered. ...and she didn't ask me for help. Why?"

"I don't know," Ducky said. "It's hard to understand the mindset of people who have chosen to end their lives."

"It was wrong."

"Yes. I agree. There seems to have been nothing in Sarah's life that would require her death."

"I hate her."

"You hate what she did."

Tim just shook his head.

"Ducky, I can't forgive her. I don't want to think about her or what she did. I'd rather not have had a sister at all."

"That doesn't necessarily translate to hatred, Timothy."

"Ducky, they're my feelings, not yours," Tim said, sounding frustrated. "I think I know how I feel."

"Okay, then. You hate your sister so much that you won't say her name. You hate her so much that you wish she'd never been born. You regret that you had a sister at all. You..."

"Stop it."

Ducky smiled a little bit. "Why, Timothy? Because it's not true?"

"Because you're making it ridiculous. You're making fun of how I feel."

Ducky shook his head quickly. "No, lad. I'm not making light of your pain. I'm extending what you've said to show you the truth. You hate what your sister did. I understand that feeling. I don't think anyone thinks that what Sarah did was right. You have the misfortune of having gone through all this before and that makes the pain worse. So much so that you want to hide from it. In your efforts to hide, you are trying to disconnect from the source of the pain, but it's impossible to do without rejecting the person you care for. You love Sarah, Timothy. You have spent much of your life caring for her and you feel betrayed and lost with her gone."

"What's the difference?" Tim asked, starting to sound angry again.

"The difference...perhaps little from your perspective, but what I see is that if you really understand what you're feeling, you can work through it...and perhaps hate yourself a little less."

"If I hate her, I don't _need _to hate myself," Tim said with a sardonic smile.

"Perhaps a less worthy man would be that way, Timothy."

Tim let out a short chuckle. Ducky decided to press on.

"And you are a worthy man."

"No. I don't want to think like that."

"Whyever not?"

"Ducky, I can't square that with reality! Either I'm wrong for hating her or I messed up and let my sister die! There's no other option!" Tim said, loudly. He was getting worked up again.

"Yes, there is," Ducky said calmly. "Timothy, you have to accept that you couldn't control what happened and the fact that you were not able to prevent it means nothing except that Sarah planned out her suicide so that she could _not_ be stopped. Her decision does not reflect anything on you."

"Yes, it does!"

"No, Timothy," Ducky said with persistence. "No more than your father's decision reflected anything on you. It was _not_ your fault and while he lied about his state of mind, he was not blaming you...and even if he had in the depths of his pain, that does not mean that it was your fault. You need to pull yourself out of this selfish perception and realize that the only person you can control is yourself. You couldn't control your father, but your presence saved him. You couldn't control Sarah, and she chose to end her life. ...and now, rather than dealing with that horrific event, you are choosing to blame yourself for it and to agonize over your feelings rather than face it."

Tim got off the bed and started to walk away again, but Ducky stopped him. Tim faced the wall.

"If you're right, Ducky..."

"I am."

"Then, there's nothing I can do."

"No, you can't. It's over and done with."

"I...I hate that...that feeling, Ducky," Tim said. He sounded near tears again. "I stood there and stared at my father and I knew that I had to let him...that if he was going to...and I left...I left...Sarah there and then saw her dead on that...table." He spun around. "Ducky, it's not fair, and I hate it!" He laughed a little...with tears in his eyes. "...and it's all about me, just like...people say about the ones who commit suicide. All they're thinking about is themselves."

And then Ducky understood another layer to Tim's reaction. His father had attempted suicide. His sister had gone through with it. Both were acts of selfishness, and Tim was admitting to the selfishness of his own grief. There was a bit of fear. Was this just inevitable for him? That helplessness he felt was as much because he was focused on himself as because of his reaction to Sarah's suicide.

"Timothy, you have choices, just like they did. There's nothing you should assume _has_ to happen."

Tim tried to smile. "Just thinking about myself," he said.

"You are thinking of yourself, yes, but you have a lot going on in your head, I'd wager."

"Don't I always?" Tim asked. He was valiantly holding back the tears.

"Yes, you do. Timothy, it's all right to cry. It's all right to cry for yourself, for your sister in spite of what happened. It's all right to hate what happened. It doesn't require that you hate the people involved when they are good people. You have a good relationship with your father now. Over time, you may mellow toward the memory of your sister, but I'm not telling you that you have to now or in the near future."

"What are you saying?" Tim asked.

"That you need to accept these feelings that you have without being ashamed of them, without being afraid of them...and without fearing rejection because of them. No one would have rejected you for what you feel."

"So you say."

"I know, Timothy, because everyone has been afraid for you, concerned, worried...not one of the emotions has been disgust."

"I don't...I wanted work to be...something that would...make everything right," Tim said. "It's not. It's not and it can't ever be, now. I quit."

Ducky was happy to be able to disabuse Tim of that notion.

"You haven't quit."

"Yes, I did," Tim said. "I said it to Director Vance. I didn't...say anything that could construed in any other way."

"But you didn't fill out the form."

"What?"

Tim was clearly confused...and still on the verge of crying.

"There's a form that you have to fill out before you can officially quit. You didn't fill that form out. You're still employed at NCIS."

That realization knocked down the last barrier. Tim was crying again, letting out a lot of emotion with the tears. Ducky hugged him. He didn't push this time. Tim had heard what he said, and there was only so much progress that could be made at one time. For now, letting Tim express some of what he hadn't before, first out of shock and then out of shame, was more important than trying to get him to admit it.

Ducky led Tim back to the bed, sat him down and let him decide whether he'd sleep or not.

"I'm sorry, Ducky."

"For what, lad?"

"Being so difficult."

"No need apologize. It's only been a few weeks since all this happened. If you haven't found your equilibrium yet, that's all right."

"I'm kind of tired. Maybe I'll...try to sleep for a while. I hope you don't mind."

"I don't mind at all. I'll be here if you need anything."

"Thanks. Really, Ducky...thanks for not...letting me run away. I don't know where I would have gone...where I would have ended up."

"I don't, either, which is why I'm glad you ended up here."

"I think I am, too."

Ducky patted Tim on the back.

"Sleep well, Timothy."

"It would be nice if I did."

"Yes."

Tim lay down and Ducky crept out of the room, feeling much better. There hadn't been anything so deep that it couldn't be fixed. Tim was just allowing himself to accept that the emotions he'd felt weren't horrible and he was letting them exist...which had led to tears. Tears were fine in a situation like this. Tim hadn't ever been a big crier. Ducky wasn't sure he had ever seen Tim cry before. He'd come close to it, but never really got there...until now. And the simple fact that he _had_ boded well as far as Ducky was concerned.

He just wanted to give Tim the chance to recover.

* * *

A/N: Lest anyone think that I'm making stuff up, there really is a form you have to fill out in order to officially resign from a federal job. If you don't submit that form, you're considered AWOL.


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Tim slept for a few hours with dreams that were full of vague images, leaving him restless and disturbed. Finally, he was done. He sat up and looked around, remembering belatedly that he was at Ducky's house. The memory hit him again, and he looked at the ceiling. Waking up to remember that Sarah had killed herself hurt every time. He leaned forward and let his head rest on his hands. Ducky had refused to let him run away from all this, from the insistence of well-meaning people...who wanted him to think about it, talk about it...when remembering how she looked in Autopsy...and in the crime-scene photo he had insisted Gibbs show him. All that blood...and Sarah in the middle of it. Dead.

"It was just school," Tim whispered. "It wasn't that important."

As stressed as he'd been by...well, pretty much everything after age sixteen...Tim could say with certainty that suicide had not _once_ crossed his mind. There was too much pain that came from it. Nothing was bad enough for that.

"Nothing," he said.

The door opened softly. Tim knew who it would be and didn't bother to raise his head.

"You're awake," Ducky said.

Tim nodded.

"Feeling no better, I see."

"What did you expect?" Tim asked. "Some magic incantation and poof, I'm better?"

"Not particularly."

"What do you want, Ducky?"

"To see how you're doing," Ducky said.

"How do I look?"

"Miserable, as a matter of fact."

Tim nodded again. "That works."

He felt the mattress shift as Ducky sat down beside him, and then Ducky's arm around him. Finally, Tim lifted his head and looked at Ducky. He managed to lift one corner of his lips in a half smile.

"You're not alone in this, Timothy. Unless you insist on it. You don't have to deal with it on your own."

"I don't want to deal with it at all," Tim admitted. "I want it never to have happened."

"That's impossible."

"I know. ...but I'm not going to do what Sarah did," he said. "You don't have to worry about that."

"I'm glad, but you won't prove that by running away. Suicide is just that: running from one's troubles. People who commit suicide often have decided that there is no value to struggling, no value in fighting to survive. They allow their pain to take over and pull them away from their lives."

Tim looked away from Ducky again. There was still that anger that he felt about what Sarah had done.

"And, Timothy, don't you see that you're doing the same thing?"

He turned back. "No! I would never!"

"You're not killing yourself, Timothy, but you _are_ doing the very same thing...or you _were_. You withdrew from your friends and family. You attempted to quit your job. You were running away from your life when I interrupted you. You're not dead, but with all that you were giving up in your attempt to escape the pain...you might as well have been."

"No one wants to hurt, Ducky."

"That's true."

"I hate that you're agreeing with me, but I'm still wrong."

Ducky smiled. "No, it's not that you're wrong, Timothy, but that you need to face it head-on rather than pretending it's not there."

Tim hated how reasonable Ducky was.

"I don't want to," he said, purposefully sounding petulant.

Ducky smiled.

There was a knock on the front door and Ducky got up.

"I think I know who this is, Timothy. Are you up to talking to Jethro?"

"I guess you're not talking about my dog?" Tim asked.

"No."

"What does he have to say?"

"I'm not sure. He asked to speak to you before the others come over tonight. Are you amenable?"

"I guess so...but not in bed," Tim said. The last thing he wanted was to have Gibbs visiting him while he was lying on a bed...as if he was some kind of invalid.

"You're not confined to this room, Timothy," Ducky said with a smile.

Tim swung his legs over and stood up. He followed Ducky out of the bedroom and stood awkwardly as Ducky opened the front door.

"Hello, Jethro. Timothy is ready for you."

"That's an exaggeration," Tim muttered under his breath.

Gibbs came in and scrutinized Tim. In fact, Tim felt like he was under a microscope, but he didn't say anything.

"Can we talk, McGee?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Ducky?"

"The study is open for use."

"Thanks."

Gibbs gestured and Tim walked with him. They sat and Tim stared at Gibbs in a tense silence.

"It didn't work, did it," Gibbs said after a few seconds.

"What didn't work?" Tim asked.

"Trying to stop yourself from feeling anything."

"I wasn't trying to do that," Tim said...and looked away.

"Yes, you were. You knew how it would feel when they first told you they thought it was suicide. You've been through it before. Anger is an easy response, much easier than grief."

Tim shrugged. He couldn't really lie to Gibbs.

"Did you ever talk to your dad about it?"

"About what?"

"About how you felt when he was going to kill himself?"

"No. I didn't talk to him at all for a long time, and then, we just moved on."

"Did you really move on?"

Tim smiled a little. "Not really. ...but I wasn't mad at him...not after I went to MIT."

"So when you weren't talking to him?"

"Yeah. It wasn't bad the first time I came home for Christmas. I wasn't mad anymore."

"Just feeling guilty."

"I guess so."

"And now?"

"Why are you asking? Ducky already talked to me about this," Tim said, feeling more angry than he had expected. "How many times are you going to try and make me talk about this?"

"Until you accept that what happened isn't going away."

"I know it's not, Boss! I'm not stupid!" Tim said and stood up. He didn't have to stay here and deal with this. He could just leave the room, get away.

"Tim, wait."

Tim stopped but he didn't turn around. There was a moment of silence.

"When I considered suicide, I didn't care about what anyone else might think. I didn't really think that there was anyone who would care about me living as much as I'd care about me dying. I was hurting and that's all I cared about."

Tim didn't want to hear all this. He started to walk again...but Gibbs followed him, still speaking.

"If my father had come and begged me not to do it, if he had told me about how much pain he would feel because of me, I wouldn't have cared. All I cared about was stopping my own pain. I couldn't have cared less about what other people would feel. It didn't matter. That's how Sarah was feeling, Tim. She wouldn't have cared about the pain you'd feel. She would only care about her own pain. She felt as though there was no other option besides dying."

"Stop..." Tim felt his throat tightening. "I don't want to hear about it. I don't care what the reasons are."

"I know you don't. ...but neither did Sarah. She didn't care about whatever reasons you might have had for wanting her to live."

Tim felt his anger build up again. He turned around.

"Why stop at one? Why stop at two? Why don't we all just throw in the towel? Clear out the whole McGee family in one fell swoop! Maybe we're all just fated to slit our wrists and bleed out! Remove our genes from the pool!" he said, fighting against the renewed urge to cry again. He didn't want to cry. "Why not? If we're not supposed to feel any pain, then why not just stop all the pain all together and have a mass suicide!"

Gibbs grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him a little.

"Tim, I didn't say it was right," he said loudly, cutting off Tim's rant.

Tim stopped talking, breathing heavily...and embarrassed by his outburst.

"You need to understand that your sister was only thinking about herself. Maybe she'd even convinced herself that everyone would be better off, but in the end, all she cared about was stopping the feelings she had. You don't have to accept it as right. You don't have to like it. ...but that's the way it is, and if you can't let yourself accept how it is, it's going to eat you alive."

"I would never do it," Tim said, swallowing the tears that kept trying to fall. "Never. I could never do that to my family. Why would she? She was there!"

"Because how she felt took precedence. You're not going to find a good reason, Tim. It doesn't work that way. You just have to accept that."

"Why are you here, Boss?" Tim asked, stepping back.

"To help. Just like Ducky is...and just like the others will be tonight. ...and like your parents will be if you want them here. Your mother said that they'd stay away if it will be easier for you."

Tim smiled a little. That sounded like his parents...and then, he felt another pang.

"They never tried to push us to do anything but what would make us happy...and productive members of society."

"It's not about reality. The reason I came is because I can speak from experience, Tim. I know what it feels like to stand there with the weapon of choice in my hand and be seconds away from ending it all."

"But you stopped."

"You're not hearing me, Tim," Gibbs said. Then, he turned a piercing look at Tim.

Tim pulled back and looked away.

"You know how it feels. Don't you."

Tim shook his head mutely, but he couldn't raise his head.

"You know exactly how it feels and you didn't go through with it. Tell me."

Another head shake. Tim had no desire to go through that period of his life again. Ever. He put it as firmly in his past as everything else related to that time.

"Tell me. When?"

"I was only sixteen years old," he said. "That's the age when there's a lot of emotions you're dealing with."

"Before or after your accident?"

"After."

"Before or after your dad's suicide attempt?"

"After."

"Did anyone ever know?"

"Only my therapist. My mom wanted me to go after my dad... I felt like it was my fault that all that had happened. I had already felt guilty for the accident. Then...with what he did later."

"How far did you go?"

Tim shrugged. "Not as far as...as Sarah. Not as far as my dad did. ...and I didn't. I would never. My dad would have felt guilty. My mom would have been so hurt by it. I just thought about it and I talked to my therapist. That was the end of it. I _never_ even tried."

"And because you didn't, you don't know why Sarah did. You'll never know, and that's okay. You don't have to know why. You don't have to understand. You just have to accept it...and not for Sarah's sake. For your own."

"I have to understand!"

"No, you don't. The sooner you realize that, the better it will be for you."

"In my nightmares, she's always laughing at me while she dies," Tim whispered. "She runs away while she's bleeding to death, telling me that I should try to save her. Once she was flicking her blood all over me and I couldn't stop her. I would have done anything to save her. Anything...even if it meant that I died instead...but she never gave me the chance."

"That's how it goes," Gibbs said.

Tim walked back to the chair and sat down.

"Can't I feel bad about that?"

Gibbs walked over as well. He laughed a little.

"Yeah, you can. You should. Just stop pretending you don't."

"I don't want to cry," Tim said. "I don't want to...to feel that."

"What? Grief?"

Tim shook his head. He wasn't sure he could find the words for it.

"Then, what?"

"Helpless...like I have to stand there and not be able to anything but...but cry. I don't want to do that."

"Why?"

"It would be...admitting that I can't do anything."

"You can't."

Tim smiled. Gibbs never minced words, but he was starting to cry in spite of his intention not to.

"There's nothing wrong with that, you know."

"Yeah, there is," Tim said. "It means that I have to stand by and watch as...as people I love hurt themselves."

"That's life. You can't make decisions for them...and even if you could, it's too late for that."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome," Gibbs said seriously.

Tim smiled and wiped away a couple of tears. He could appreciate Gibbs' approach even if he wasn't happy about it.

"What are the others going to do tonight?"

"Be here for you...since you haven't let them do that yet."

"I don't want to talk about this."

"Give it a try. You might be surprised."

"In other words, I'm not going to have a choice here."

"No," Gibbs said, shaking his head.

Tim let out a loud exhalation.

"Okay."


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Tim went back to the bedroom after talking to Gibbs. He didn't talk to Ducky at all, and Ducky looked at Gibbs with concern.

"Jethro?"

"Some hard truths, Duck. It doesn't make it easier at first, but I think it'll help in the long run. He's at least letting us come tonight."

"What about his family?"

"I mentioned it. He didn't give a real answer."

"He probably doesn't know himself whether or not he wants them here. Did he tell you anything more?"

"He feels helpless and he doesn't like it."

"Yes, he indicated much the same to me. Do you think we should worry about the possibility of self-harm?"

"I don't think so," Gibbs said. "He's pretty adamant about never taking that step. I think I believe him."

"I believe that he is sincere, but...what he's been willing to give up so far just to avoid the pain. It worries me. It could lead him down a darker path than he's taken up to this point."

"That's why we're not letting him get away this time," Gibbs said with a smile. "He's here with you and that's where he's going to stay until we've decided that he's going to be all right."

"What if he chooses to go?"

"If he's not going to Ohio, I don't want to let him go."

"Are you saying that you are advocating forcing him to stay?"

"Yes."

Ducky nodded. "Just so we're clear."

"I'm not willing to give him up."

"Do you think it will come to that?"

"No, I don't. I think he's at least starting to _think _about accepting what happened...and I think if he can't isolate himself, he'll get further."

"I hope you're right, Jethro. I hate seeing him like this."

"So do I."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim could hear Ducky and Gibbs talking in low tones. He couldn't understand their words...but he couldn't care enough to try and figure it out. He lay down on the bed again. Unbidden, memories welled up...memories of Sarah.

Sarah following him around as a child until he was ready to scream.

Sarah begging him to read her a bedtime story.

Sarah trying to do his homework with him.

Sarah sitting with him after his accident.

Sarah hugging him the first time he came home from college.

Sarah wanting Tim to meet her first date.

Sarah excitedly calling him when she was accepted to Waverley.

...and Sarah dead on a slab in a morgue.

The comparison of those memories, the incessance of their appearance in his mind. He couldn't seem to stop them. ...and in spite of his determination not to cry for his sister, Tim couldn't _not_ cry...and he couldn't lie to himself about why he was crying.

He was crying for Sarah.

Once he started he couldn't stop, and since he was alone, he felt no need to control it. He completely abandoned himself to the tears, curling up on the bed, letting the tears shake him. He kept them as silent as he could. He didn't want anyone else to know how painful it was for him. He didn't want anyone to witness his tears. He just wanted to cry and cry until, hopefully, he had no more tears left.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky walked down the hall to the spare room and cracked open the door just a bit. He saw Tim sobbing on the bed, his eyes tightly closed, the tears already streaking his cheeks. He was shaking. He almost went in, but he decided not to. If Tim was going to let himself cry, he deserved the chance to do it on his own terms. He quietly closed the door and walked back to the kitchen.

"How is he?"

"He's crying, Jethro...and I think we should let him for now."

Gibbs nodded. "Yeah. If he's doing it willingly, it's probably better for him. I'd better get back."

Ducky nodded. "I hope Director Vance wasn't too upset about my unscheduled absence."

"No. I don't think so. He knows what's going on."

"Good. What time will you all come?"

"Not sure."

"Dinner?"

"No. Let's not make it that formal."

"Very well."

Gibbs left and Ducky took a deep breath. He was relieved that Tim's whereabouts were known, that Tim seemed a bit more willing to talk, but he ached for the grief Tim was still feeling. He waited until the sound of crying ebbed and then, he went into the room. He wasn't surprised to see that Tim had cried himself to sleep. He was taking the deep shuddering breaths that often followed such a bout of tears. It was hard to see, but in a way, it was good. That Tim was crying now could only help him...by releasing all those emotions he had tried to put away. If it continued without improvement for a long period, it could bode ill, but for now, Ducky would accept it as a good sign.

He settled himself on a chair beside the bed, not wanting to leave Tim alone, even in slumber.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"What's up, Boss?" Tony asked as soon as Gibbs came in.

"Tim's still having a hard time, but he's at Ducky's and will be staying there for the time being."

"Willingly?" Ziva asked.

"Mostly."

"Okay."

"He's agreed to talk to you guys tonight."

"That doesn't sound very promising," Tony said.

"Best we're going to get for now."

"I'll take it. Did he say anything to you?"

"Mostly what you'd expect. He's angry about what Sarah did and he feels like he should have been able to save her...like he saved his dad...and I think he probably feels guilty about being angry, too. Ducky said that he was adamant that he hates Sarah, that he didn't love her."

"That's a total lie," Tony said. "Tim would bend over backwards for Sarah."

"I know."

"I don't know what to say to him, Boss," Tony confessed.

"Nor do I," Ziva said.

"That's all right. You don't have to say much at all. I want _him_ to talk and let out what he's been feeling...so that he can see that it's okay."

"Of course, it is."

Gibbs smiled a little. Tony sounded almost offended that it would even be in question. He left them in the bullpen and went down to tell Abby and Jimmy about the plan. The more people who were there...well, the more awkward it would be at first, but Gibbs was certain that it would help more than hinder.

He hoped.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim picked listlessly at the dinner Ducky had prepared. He appreciated it, but at the same time... He sighed.

"Something wrong with your plate, Timothy?"

"No. Just with me."

"Not at all, lad. What you need to understand is that your feelings are normal. It's nothing shameful to be angry, to be sad, to be upset...and it's not shameful to be confused about what you feel."

Tim sighed again. "It's been weeks...but it doesn't feel like it."

"Does it feel like eternity or does it feel like only a moment?"

"It feels like I just found out...but that it's lasted forever."

"The worst of both worlds."

"Exactly," Tim said and sighed. "They're all coming?"

"Yes."

"I don't know what to expect," Tim said.

"Friendship, Timothy. That's all."

"Yeah, but..."

"It won't be easy for you, but I believe that if you stop hiding, it will be better."

Tim nodded, but he couldn't help feeling a bit of worry about what would come with this visit. Still, he picked at his food a bit more until the first knocks on the door came. Then, his stomach tied up in knots. He knew what was coming and he wasn't sure he was ready for this.

_I'll never be ready to talk about this...but maybe Ducky's right and I need to._

Tim let out a whoosh and stood up.

"I'll get the door, Ducky."

Ducky smiled encouragingly. "No sense in putting off the inevitable?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"Then, go to it, lad."

Tim walked to the door and opened it. He almost stepped back in surprise. They were all there together. Gibbs, Tony, Ziva, Abby and Jimmy. Tim mustered up a weak smile.

"Hi. Come in."

"Don't sound so excited, Probie," Tony said, but he clouted Tim's shoulder as he walked inside.

Abby hugged Tim tightly and kissed his cheek, but amazingly, she didn't say anything.

Ziva and Jimmy just scooted inside. Once Abby let Tim go and went inside, Gibbs paused.

"Feeling any better?"

Tim smiled a little. "No, I don't."

"Good."

"What?"

"If you claimed you were already feeling better, I wouldn't believe you," Gibbs said and smiled.

"You'll believe misery but not happiness?"

"Not yet. You don't reset that quickly. No one does. If they _think_ they do, they've fooled themselves."

"Yeah. ...what are you expecting?"

"For you to open up."

"Just like you do?" Tim asked.

Gibbs smiled and wasn't put off by the barb.

"No, not like me. I know what doesn't work because I've tried it already."

Tim sighed and nodded. They walked into Ducky's study where Ducky was already forcing tea on everyone. He'd moved quite quickly. Tim was impressed.

"Timothy, have a seat," Ducky said, gesturing to one of the vacant chairs.

Tim sat down as ordered and looked at the others, feeling awkward.

"How are you feeling now, Tim?" Ziva asked. "I have not really had the chance to speak to you."

"I know," Tim said. "I'm..." He shrugged and stared at his lap. He didn't really want to have all this attention on him.

"So...no better?"

"Not really."

"You don't really want us here, do you, Probie," Tony said.

Tim raised his head quickly. "It's not that, Tony! It's just that...that this is all about...my sister killed herself. She committed suicide and I can't...I don't _want_ to forgive her for that, for what she did. It was all a big lie that...I'm really mad at her," he said finally. "I hate her, and I don't want to think about it because I would have done anything for her and it wasn't enough. She wouldn't let it be."

"And that means that it's not your fault, McGee," Tony said. "I don't blame you for being mad about it, but you shouldn't feel like it's your fault."

"Did I say I did?" Tim asked.

"No, but I know you. You're going to start thinking that if you hadn't been doing so much at NCIS, you would have noticed there was something wrong and stopped her...like your dad."

"Thanks for bringing _that_ up," Tim said, swallowing hard.

Abby got up and hugged Tim again.

"Tim, we just want to help you!"

"And everyone keeps insisting that helping me means making me talk about it."

"Exactly!" Abby said. "You _need_ to, Tim, because keeping it to yourself hasn't been helping! If you're going to look at it as a...a kind of experiment. You've tried one thing and it hasn't helped you feel any better. So set that aside and try something else! ...talking about it!"

She let him go.

"What do you want me to say?" Tim asked.

"What can we do to help?" Jimmy asked. "We don't have to talk about it all the time or anything, but you're trying not to talk at all...about anything."

"Is complete isolation really what you want, Timothy?"

Tim sighed.

"It's not about what I want."

"Well, it should be, if it's not," Tony said. "What you _really_ want, not what you're pretending you want."

Tim raised an eyebrow. "Pretending? I want to escape all this."

"But you can't," Abby said. "Be honest, Tim. Has anything you've tried so far really helped you escape?"

"No," Tim said.

"So...that should tell you something."

"That I should try harder to escape?" Tim asked and smiled weakly.

"That you should _stop_ trying to escape," Ducky said gently.

"Man, McGee, we were really worried when you just vanished. We didn't know what to think."

"What _did_ you think?" Tim asked.

"We thought that...you may have decided..." Ziva stopped.

"You thought that I might kill myself?"

"Maybe," Tony said. "Either that or you might do something stupid and die...and either way, you'd still be dead, and we didn't want that to happen."

"Why would you think that?" Tim asked. "After what Sarah did...why would you think I'd do that to my parents?"

"Because we didn't _know_, Tim," Tony said. "You were already different. Who's to say you might not have gone that route? You didn't think that Sarah would commit suicide, but she did."

"I know. You don't need to remind me," Tim said.

"What Tony is trying to say is that your behavior was not normal for you and we did not know how far you might go to avoid thinking about what happened," Ziva said earnestly. "We would not want to believe that you might hurt yourself deliberately, but accidentally...we did not know."

"What were you doing after you left NCIS?" Jimmy asked.

"Just driving around. That's all. I slept in my car."

"And that's really not normal for you," Jimmy said.

Tim smiled. "No, it's not."

"Can't you understand why we were worried?" Abby asked.

"Yeah," Tim said. "It's just that..." He felt his throat tightening up and he tried to swallow the tears that were coming again. "I don't want to cry. It'll be like I'm saying it's okay, and it's _not_!"

"No!" Abby said. "That's not what it's saying! You cry because _you_ need to cry, not because you _have_ to cry!"

"You sure about that, Abbs?" Tim asked.

"Positive. You've been holding back all your tears...well, now it's time to use them...let them go, Tim! We don't blame you for crying!"

Tim shook his head and smiled.

"Good. Abby, I could use another hug."

Abby nodded and hugged him...as Tim let himself cry once more.

This time in the arms of a friend, in the company of people who cared about him.


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

No one stayed very long after Tim stopped crying. They didn't want him to feel pressured to talk constantly. They wanted to _start_ the process, not force everything in one night. Ducky insisted that Tim stay with him until such time as he was genuinely ready to face things by himself. Tim didn't argue...mostly because he couldn't. Too much had come out that revealed just how little he had been ready to face.

It was another two days before he was ready to call his parents and talk to them. Even then, he waited until Ducky was gone because he wasn't sure how this would go and he wanted to be able to talk to them as naturally as he could. He waited until noon, knowing that his parents would probably be home. Then, he dialed.

"_Hello, McGees. This is Naomi."_

"Hi, Mom."

"_Hi, Tim. I'm glad that you called. Your father and I have been worried."_

"I know. I'm sorry."

Tim couldn't think of anything to say. He knew he needed to call, but...

"_Tim...are you angry at your dad for what Sarah did?"_

"No. Not really."

"_Then, what is it?"_

"I'm mad at both of them...but at least Dad didn't go through with it. He let me stop him. Sarah didn't. ...and I'm selfish. She should have given me the chance to stop her. She didn't. I can't forgive her." Tim was relieved that he could say that without crying again.

There was a pause.

"_Tim, I understand how you feel about that...but would you listen to what I want to say?"_

"Yeah."

"_Sarah isn't here to be hurt by that."_ Naomi's voice choked up for a moment. _"She's gone. She's dead. She's taken herself away from everything. The only person being hurt by that is you...and I can tell that you are because you've hidden yourself away from everything and everyone who might remind you of your sister. I can't make you forgive her. I don't even know if you should...but, Tim, if it's hurting you...it's really not worth it."_

"I don't know how to forgive her, Mom," Tim said. "Whenever I think about her...I'm really...really mad...except when I want to cry. I just...how could she think that this was the right thing to do? Didn't she know how I'd feel? Didn't she care? She said she loved me...right before I left that day. She didn't say anything else! Why not?"

"_Because she didn't want to, Tim. Because she knew that you would stop her...because Sarah has always looked up to you and listened to you. She knew that if she mentioned what she was thinking of doing, that you would be able to persuade her not to."_ Naomi paused for a moment. _"Tim, Sarah loved you and looked up to you, but she had made her decision and we couldn't stop her because she was determined to go through with it."_

"It's not fair, Mom."

"_I know, Tim. Your father and I have been talking to Dr. Jonas and what he told us is that we can think of suicide as being the ultimate selfish act. It's _not_ fair, Tim, but life...and death...they're not fair, and that's not going to change. Will you talk to your dad?"_

"Yeah." Tim wasn't sure he _wanted_ to, but he would.

"_Good. Sam..."_

Tim heard his dad get on.

"_Tim?"_

"Hi, Dad."

"_Bad memories, huh?"_

"Yeah."

"_I'm so sorry, Tim. If I could go back in time and make a different decision, I would. There hasn't been a day since...Sarah...since we found out what she did, there hasn't been a day that I haven't thought about what I almost did and wished that I hadn't done. Lucy Maud Montgomery said that 'we should regret our mistakes and learn from them but never carry them into the future with us.' I'm afraid that I'm not to that point yet, Tim. I've seen how you've struggled with what Sarah did and I know that a large fraction of it is because you've had to deal with it before. I'm sorry."_

Tim felt his throat tightening up annoyingly again. He and his dad hadn't really talked about Sam's suicide attempt in a long time. They had tried to move beyond it.

"We don't have to talk about this, Dad."

"_Yes, we do...because it's clear that it's still on your mind. It's still a problem, and I'm the cause of it, Tim."_

"No...No, Dad. We've dealt with it. It's just...this...with Sarah."

"_And the fact that you've already felt this kind of pain. I'm sorry that you were the one who dealt with it."_

"Me, too..." Tim said. "I hate her, Dad."

"_No, you don't. It would be easier for you, but you don't. You love your sister and you love her so much that you don't want to deal with what she did. I don't blame you. You didn't want to deal with what I almost did, either. Have you forgiven me?"_

"Yes."

"_Are you just saying that or do you mean it?"_

"Dad, I love you."

"_But do you forgive me?"_

"I did...before this."

"_And now, you're not sure?"_

Tim laughed a little. "No, I'm not."

"_I understand that."_

"Dad, have you forgiven her?"

"_Yes. I have."_

"Why?" Tim asked. "Why can you forgive Sarah for...for doing this?"

"_Because I know how she felt. Even if I think she was wrong, I understand that pain."_

"How do I?"

"_Well...Tim, I don't know what it will take for you. Facing up to what she did is one of the things that might help you...because her choices aren't going away. They won't change."_

"I want it to be over, but it won't go away like that."

"_No, it won't. Tim, it's no crime to admit that you need help. It's your choice, but think about it."_

"Dad..."

"_What is it, Tim?"_

"I kind of...know how she felt, too."

"_How?"_

"When you and Mom had me seeing a shrink for a while...after you...I kind of...thought about it...but I never even tried...because I knew what it would do."

"_We're all different, Tim. You're not going to understand it that way. If you want to understand, you have to see what Sarah herself said, not what you think she should have said. She sent us a letter. If you want to read it..."_

"No. Thanks, Dad. I'll talk to you, later, okay?"

"_Okay, Tim."_

"And...maybe on the weekend...maybe I'll...come to Ohio...if you don't mind."

"_We'd love to have you here."_

"Okay. Bye, Dad."

"_I love you, Tim."_

"I love you, too."

Tim hung up and looked at the clock. He was supposed to go into NCIS to talk to Vance about everything that had happened. He didn't want to, but he needed to. Everything that had transpired since that day. He felt a lot different. Still miserable, but different. He took a breath, wiped his eyes, and tried to make himself presentable to go to work. No sense in broadcasting his misery...since he'd already done that.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Hi, Pamela. Is Director Vance ready to see me?"

Pamela smiled kindly and nodded.

"How are you doing, Tim?"

"Marginally better," Tim said.

"That's better than nothing."

"Yeah."

"You can go on in."

Tim nodded his thanks and walked into Vance's office.

"Hello, Agent McGee. It's nice to see you again. Have a seat."

"Are you sure, Director?" Tim asked with a weak smile.

"Yes," Vance said, walking around his desk. "Have a seat."

Tim sat down at the table.

"Now, I guess you're aware that you didn't actually quit when you told me you did."

"Yeah. Actually, I'm really grateful that you're going that route. I'm sorry for what I did, how I acted. It was really childish."

"You've been dealing with a lot, Agent McGee. It's hard to see a family member hurt themselves, whether that hurt is fatal or not. I understand that this has been very difficult for you. I hope you realize that the Sakota case is cold and that's not going to change."

"I understand. I was...hoping that I could...somehow justify everything by solving the case," Tim confessed. "...and it was stupid of me. It's ridiculous that I could think solving a case would make up for what I missed."

"Agent McGee, I'm no expert, and I don't know the details of your personal life, but let me tell you something important about family: You can't take responsibility for what your family does. It's not your responsibility. If your sister chose not to tell you anything, that's her choice, not your fault. You don't need to try and somehow fix things by gaining success in another area of your life. You just need to do what you've always done. You hit a patch of time when your work consumed most of your life. It did that for me, too. Things like that happen and you can't always control them. In fact, usually, you can't."

"Coincidence?" Tim asked.

"Yeah. I know that Agent Gibbs doesn't believe in coincidence, but I do. Sometimes, life just deals you that hand and you have no choice but to accept it."

Tim swallowed hard and nodded. "I don't know if I can yet."

"You don't have a choice, but, Agent McGee, if you need time to _adjust_, you can have it. I expected you to take time off much earlier. The time is still available if you want it."

"I do. I think I need it."

"Okay. That's fine. Don't worry about it. Take a week or two. Normally, I wouldn't be so blase about it, but I think it's important. Besides, you needed the time off after the pressure you had before all this started. So I want you to take two weeks off and then you can come back. All right?"

"Thank you, Director."

"No need to thank me. I don't want to lose one of my agents."

Tim smiled and nodded.

"Good. Go on. Take the time you need and we'll manage. I think Keating is stepping up to the challenge. I wish I'd thought of it before...and I didn't even think of it this time. Gibbs did. It has helped."

"Thank you anyway, Director. I didn't ever want to lose my job."

"Well, you didn't. Good luck."

Tim shook Vance's hand and then left. The team was out at a crime scene and so Tim just left without talking to anyone. He spent the rest of the day thinking...about what he might need to do.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky had spoken to Vance before leaving and was relieved to find that Tim had decided to take some time off. He didn't know what all Tim would do with that time, but he was glad that he was taking it.

"Timothy?" he called when he walked in.

Tim walked out of the study.

"Hey, Ducky."

"I heard that you're taking some time."

Tim smiled and nodded.

"I'm going to go to Ohio for part of it. Thanks for...for letting me stay here and for...forcing me to start dealing with this."

"It's my pleasure."

"Could I ask for your help with one more thing, Ducky?"

"Of course."

"Sarah...she wrote me a letter...and I wasn't in the mood to have it," Tim said with a weak smile. "I ripped it up, but I didn't throw it away. I want to...to put it back together and...and see what she said to me. I don't know if it will make any difference, but I think I need to see what she had decided to write to me...but I don't..."

"...want to face it on your own?"

"Yeah."

"Absolutely, Timothy. When do you want to go?"

"Now?"

"How about after dinner?"

Tim laughed self-consciously. "Okay."

"Then, come into the kitchen and we can help you mentally prepare yourself. Some tea, I think."

"Oh, Ducky."

"Tea will be better for you than coffee at this time."

Tim laughed again. "Okay, okay."

Ducky was happy to see a smile, no matter how brief. Tim hadn't smiled at all for a long time and this was a good trend, even if what they would do later would likely not result in a smile.


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Now that he'd made his decision about what to do, Tim felt anxious to go and get it done...but Ducky was insistent that they eat first...and have tea, but finally, Ducky gestured and Tim was freed to go. He drove over to his apartment and let Ducky in with him.

"Where is it, Timothy?"

"Under my bed," Tim said. "I...kicked it there after..." He shrugged.

"It's all right, Timothy. I understand."

Tim smiled and walked into his bedroom. He knelt on the floor and pulled out the shredded envelope. It was slightly dusty. He took a breath and got to his feet. Now that the moment was here, he wasn't sure that he really wanted to do it. He looked at Ducky.

"You don't have to if you'd rather not, Timothy," Ducky said kindly.

...but Tim knew that he did need to. At some point, he had to know. It would drive him nuts, eventually.

"No...I need to do it."

He sat down on the bed and pulled out the pieces of the letter. Ducky walked up behind him and put a supporting hand on his shoulder.

"Thanks, Ducky."

"I'm here to give you whatever help you need. Just ask."

"Thanks."

Tim tried to put the pieces in order. It was hard. Every time he got a piece into place, he would shake a little because he'd noticed the writing. It was hard to get the pieces in the right order because he was trying not to read any of the words...but one or two penetrated. _Love. Under. Try._ They were there and he couldn't block them all out. He also noticed that there was a lot of blank space on the page. Whatever the letter said, Sarah hadn't written much to him. All through it Ducky's hand was on his shoulder. Ducky didn't say a word. He was just there, allowing Tim to do what he had decided he needed to do.

Finally, the letter was assembled.

"Timothy, would you like to read it alone first?"

"No. Please stay."

"Very well."

Carefully, Tim leaned over the assembled pieces and read Sarah's last words to him.

_Dear Tim,_

_I've been sitting here for a long time, trying to figure out what I could say to you because I know that you'll feel guilty that you didn't stop me. I've been trying to decide how to explain to you what I'm going to do, but I don't think there's any way. You'll never understand. You can't because you wouldn't ever do what I'm going to have done. _

_So all I'm going to say, Tim, is that I love you, big brother. You've been there for me through everything. You've done so much and I know you would have done more. Seeing you today was wonderful and I'm glad I got to do that one more time before I go._

_I just want you to know that much, Tim. I love you and I wish I could have done more for you, but I could never do for you what you did for me._

_Love,  
__Sarah_

Tim took a breath and looked up toward the ceiling.

"Well, Timothy?" Ducky asked.

"She said she loved me and that she couldn't explain herself to me," Tim said softly.

Ducky sat down beside Tim on the bed, jumbling up the pieces of the letter again. Tim found that he didn't mind.

"Do you feel any better?"

"No," Tim said. "No, I don't." He looked at Ducky. "When Sarah was born, I remember holding her for the first time and I promised her that...that I would always protect her because that's a big brother's job. I would have done anything for her, Ducky. I was willing to give up my job for her. I always tried to protect her from anything that might have hurt her. ...but I couldn't protect her from herself no matter how much I tried. I couldn't."

"That's because you would have had to have her help in doing so. You can't protect a person from himself against his will. It doesn't work."

Tim nodded, knowing Ducky was right but hating it all the same.

"I still can't forgive her, Ducky. I can't...but I think..." Tim was annoyed as the tears started up again. He wiped them away, trying to stop them from coming again. "I think I can let myself miss her now...and I miss my baby sister."

He didn't want to cry, but Ducky gave him a one-armed hug, making it impossible for him to remain composed.

"It's all right if you miss her, lad. Goodness knows you've spent enough time trying to deny it. If forgiveness isn't something that you can feel as yet, then, don't try to force it. Feel the emotions that you can and allow the others to come as they will. Perhaps, in time, you'll be able to let that feeling inside. If you can't now, it's no shame."

"There's nothing that can...fix this, Ducky. She's gone. She's dead. No matter what comes next, Sarah will always be dead," Tim said and the tears continued to fall. He laughed a little as he tried to wipe them away. "I don't want to cry."

"Clearly, you need to," Ducky said gently.

"But I don't want to."

"Timothy...what are you saving them for? Do you think that there is another time when the tears will be more appropriate than they are right now when you're mourning the loss of your younger sister? There is no point to trying to keep them inside. Your grief and pain can be expressed in tears without cheapening them. You need these tears, Timothy. Let them fall."

Tim nodded...and then cried. Ducky let him and neither of them spoke until the tears ended of their own accord and the two men left.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim went to Ohio to visit his parents a few days later. He spent the time talking with them about what had happened, how he had felt, and they even got him to go to a family counseling session with Dr. Jonas. The weekend was hard but worthwhile. It got Tim to acknowledge that he did need some extra help for a while. He got a recommendation for a support group for survivors of suicide and started attending with them. It was something that he needed just to get him through the period of recovery, and it helped because these were all people who had also lost loved ones to suicide. They knew how it could feel. They understood the emotions.

He also went back to work, and that helped him as well...as did getting Jethro back and taking care of his dog. He had things to fill his time, people watching out for him...and something more than trying to forget. He was learning to accept.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Three months later..._

Tim was running a search on his computer. It had been a quiet sort of day. Nothing much going on. A case, of course. There was always a case, but it had just been quiet. Everyone was doing their jobs without a lot of frenetic activity. He wouldn't want this all the time, but for now, it was good for him.

The elevator dinged behind him and after a few moments, he felt Abby's arms around him from behind.

"How are you doing, Tim?"

"I'm all right, Abbs. Thanks for asking," Tim said with a smile.

"I'm just asking."

"I know, and I really do appreciate it," Tim said.

"Good...because you know who else is going to ask?"

Tim grinned. "Everyone."

Abby hugged him tightly.

"That's right, Tim."

"And I appreciate that, too."

"Good because I don't think we could stop."

"I hope you will be able to..._eventually_, but for now, I still appreciate it."

It _was_ a good thing that Tim still liked the expression of concern because it was only twenty minutes later that Tony, Ziva and Gibbs came back.

"How's it going, McGee?" Tony asked.

"It's all right," Tim said.

"You have your group meeting tonight?" Ziva asked.

"Yeah, I do."

"Then, we will not invite you out, but I hope you have a nice night."

Ziva leaned over and kissed Tim on the cheek.

"Thanks."

They got back to work for a few more hours and then Gibbs sent them home. Everyone gathered up their stuff and headed out. Tim lingered for a moment to finish up his search and then closed down. He looked up and noticed that Gibbs had remained behind, too. He smiled.

"Things are okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," Tim said. "Not stupendous by any means, but okay."

"How are you feeling about her?"

They got onto the elevator.

"I still haven't felt like I can forgive her...but I'm not as angry as I was. The group meetings help a lot."

"Good."

"And, Boss...you all really helped, too. Just getting me to talk about it...it helped."

"Good. I'm glad."

"Me, too."

The elevator doors opened and they headed out of NCIS.

"Tim?"

"Yeah?"

"You still feeling guilty?"

"Sometimes. Not always."

"You don't have any reason to."

"I know." Tim laughed a little. "It's going to take time, Boss. More than just a few months."

"Yeah."

"But I have time, and a lot of it is thanks to you guys. I don't know if I could have got through this on my own."

"You don't have to."

"I know. I had a dream last night. Sarah was running away from me, calling back and I couldn't find her." Tim sighed. "No matter what happens, Sarah is still gone...and so pointlessly."

Gibbs put his hand on Tim's shoulder.

"If you still need to cry, Tim, you can. No one is going to tell you that you can't."

Tim smiled. He didn't cry but he knew that his eyes glistened a bit.

"I know. Thanks, Boss."

They went their separate ways.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"So...who'd like to start?"

Tim raised his hand...which was not normal for him.

"Go ahead, Tim."

Tim nodded. "I just wanted to say how important it's been for me to have people helping me...to have my friends helping me when it would have been easier to give up."

"Tell us more."

"Well, after my sister committed suicide, I wasn't ready to accept it and..."

As he told the story of what had happened, Tim found himself feeling the tightness in his throat that heralded tears. He was familiar with it...but it was different this time.

Even though he was far from healed, even though there was a long way to go before he got there, this time, the tears were of gratitude, not of grief.

And that was a worthwhile change.

FINIS!


End file.
